


Sharp and Warm

by Leticheecopae



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, Squee (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), And a lot of odd and/or messed up happenings, Anxiety Disorder, Bloodplay, Death/Rebirth, Gore, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, In later chapters there will be, Insanity, Knifeplay, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, NSFW, Otherworldly bullshit, Pain Kink, Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, talking knives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: The scary neighbor man left Todd alone with his parents years ago; left him to the asylum. But Todd never forgot him, how could he? The blood splattered stranger was the first one to show him any kindness, attention, and as scary as he was, it was what Todd had needed. Todd tried to forget about him in the walls of the asylum, hell he tried to become normal. He started college, for Christ sake, and is becoming a pediatric nurse. He's going to help kids, stop the bad things before they can start. That's his hope, at least. But normalcy isn't in his cards, not when his best friend is the Devil's son, his lab partner insists one of their classmates is an alien, and he bought the house with three sevens. Especially not when the scary neighbor man decides it's time to come home and dredge up all those feelings Todd tried to suppress to stay 'normal'.





	1. Daily Dose of Sanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KukkiisArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KukkiisArt/gifts).



> This AU was originally designed by [irkenenthusiest](irkenenthusiest.tumblr.com) over on Tumblr. I have gotten full permission to write out the AU with both their headcanons and some of mine, and some scenes throughout the story will be based on some of the artwork they have already created. I encourage you to take a look at their awesome artwork for these pairings!

Mommy and Daddy were screaming.

Todd didn’t know where their screams were coming from or why they were screaming, but he knew that he needed to help them. That’s what sons did, after all. They helped their parents when they couldn’t help themselves.

“You know, you could just leave them.”

Shmee sat on his bed, a needle in his paw as he sewed up his cloth chest.

“Why would I do something like that?” Todd’s voice came out high and small as he sat curled up at the head of his bed.

“Because they left you,” the bear replied with a lipless mouth. “They deserve a little pain, don’t you think?” Shmee’s head pivoted on his stout neck and gave Todd a needle-sharp smile. “We could stay here and play. Maybe find some matches or those special scissors your mom keeps in the kitchen? I’m sure they’d rather you keep busy and stay out of their hair anyway.”

“But they’re hurting.” He unfurled slowly and slipped from the bed.

Shmee shrugged as he watched him take stuttering steps across the floor. “Like I said, I don’t see how that’s your problem. They left you, after all. You’d just be returning the favor.”

Todd stood next to his closed door, the knob high above his head. He stared at it and listened to the screams.

“You’re gonna go no matter what I say, aren’t you.” Shmee heaved a sigh, tufts of fluff filtering out around the needle-tipped teeth in his mouth.

Todd nodded. 

“Then fuck it; let’s go together. Can’t keep you safe from in here, can I?”

Todd’s chest relaxed as the bear snapped the string it had been using on his chest. The stitches were uneven, oddly spaced, but they kept his stuffing inside. That’s all they really needed to do.

“Come on.” Shmee grabbed the door handle for him, his bear body towering over Todd. “Let’s get this over with.”

The door creaked forward. Todd stepped behind Shmee. The bear gave a sigh and slumped.

“Meat shield yet again.”

“Again?” Todd squeaked.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Shmee started walking down the hallway. “Used to it by now.”

Todd didn’t ask. Instead, he scuttled forward and grabbed Shmee’s soft paw. There were more stitch marks there —all uneven, some leaking stuffing— but Shmee’s paw was still whole and fit perfectly in Todd’s hand.

They kept walking down the hall, Shmee always one step ahead as Todd’s eyes darted everywhere. The pictures were all wrong. He saw his mom and his dad, doing what looked like really fun things, but where was he? 

“Shmee? Why—”

“You know why,” he grunted.

Todd shut his mouth and looked away from the walls. Without the distraction of the photos, he found himself focussing on the cacophony of screams that bounced down the hall. 

“Can still turn back,” Shmee murmured.

Todd shook his head.

“I’d say, ‘your funeral,’ but we both know that’s not going to happen. Not while I’m around.”

A smile touched Todd’s lips, and he hugged the bear’s paw tight. “You’re my best friend,” Todd said into his paw.

“Kid, I’m your only friend.”

The muscles in Todd’s face spasmed, but he managed to keep his smile. A friend was a friend, and there was nothing wrong with that. 

The seemingly eternal hallway came to a sudden halt as the far door rushed forward to meet them. Todd let out a small _squee_ of fear as he hid behind Shmee. The bear didn’t even flinch.

“Last chance,” Shmee told him. “We can still go play. We could try that thing with the magnifier glass and the ants.”

Todd shook his head. “N-No. Mommy and Daddy need me.”

“Just because their screaming doesn’t mean they need help.”

Todd gulped. Screaming was screaming, and screaming was always bad. Even on roller coasters. Loud laughs though, those were okay. Those weren’t screams.

With a shaking hand, Todd reached for the doorknob; his face pressed into Shmee’s shoulder. The bear’s paw felt smaller, but it still fit in his hand. The knob felt huge. He took it between his thin fingers, twisted, and pushed. 

A screaming howl came whistling past him as he looked through the splintered door frame and into his parents’ bedroom. There on the bed, he saw a writhing mass of flesh. Limbs flailed on both sides, his father and mother’s faces appearing and disappearing as it moved, and the sheets were steadily dripping with something dark and sticky.

“Shmee,” he squeaked. “W-What’s happening?”

There was no response.

“Shmee?”

Todd looked down. Shmee, the teddy bear, hung from his hand, tiny and ragged.

“Shhh, Mommy. We’re almost done.”

Todd looked up towards the voice. There was someone standing next to his parents’ bed. They had a very large needle.

“The vodka should have killed you, you little bastard!” his mother sobbed as the shape, dark and tall, as it walked around the bed. “I had a glass every day. Every DAMN DAY with those pills! You should have rotted in my womb!”

“I told you to drink the bottle!” his father shouted back, his face seeming to swim across the mass of flesh. 

A squeak of fear slipped from Todd before he could stop it. The eyes of his parents turned to him.

“Why are you doing this?!” his mother screamed. “Why couldn’t you just go?! There were plenty of people who would have taken you, but you had to stay! You had to be _ours_.” She gnashed her teeth at him and they shattered, blood pouring out between the stumps; shards of white enamel shrapnel split her lips.

“He was _your_ mistake,” his father snapped at her. “Look at him. He looks nothing like me. Probably got knocked up by your goddamn dealer! But that fucking prenup. If not for that, you would have been stuck with the little shit in some back alley, and I would have been free, you hear me? Free!” His eyes swiveled to Todd, the irises now the lens of his glasses; forever reflecting dead light. “I loved her once; you know that? I loved her until _you_.”

“But you can still love her, Daddy.” Gentle hands grasped Todd around the waist, cradling him. The touch sent fear spiking through him, but he couldn’t move. Those hands filled him with ice and kept him from even twitching a finger. “You can still love us.”

Todd’s eyes grew wide as he was taken towards the pile of flesh. The closer he got, the more he could see the stitches. Thick, black, uneven stitches. They didn’t hold back the blood —barely held in the guts— but they kept his parents together, and that’s what mattered.

“One more piece,” Todd said. He looked down into his hands and found himself: a naked, lumpy child that clung to a tiny wisp of a bear. “We don’t need that anymore.” He took Shmee gently, listened to the sound of fear that escaped from his small self, and ignored it. 

“We won’t have to be away from them anymore,” Todd whispered. “We’ll always be together; always love each other.” He ignored the lump of flesh in his hands as it denied his words.

“We’ll always be with Mommy and Daddy.” 

He dropped Shmee to the floor and out of sight. He’d need both hands for the next part. One to hold and one to stitch. It was time to put away such childish things; a teddy bear was only useful to a child, after all.

“I-I want to go play,” he heard himself whimper as he hoisted the small body up and placed it on the back of his father. Or was it his mother? He had cut and stitched and cut again so many times that he couldn’t be sure anymore. 

“And we will,” Todd told him. “We’ll play with Mommy and Daddy forever and ever.” He picked up the needle with all its black thread.

“Better use some bactine first.”

Todd froze.

“That shit will get infected like crazy if you don’t.” 

Todd looked around the room, eyes searching. The windows were all broken and the moon was full outside, but the shadows stayed as thick as blood in a fat man’s artery.

“W-Who’s there?”

“Come on, Squee.” 

Todd looked down and found Shmee standing at his feet. 

“It’s only me.”

“Shmee, what are—” Todd’s voice cut off as a knife shot out from between the bear’s stitches, looking impossibly big for how small Shmee was. 

“This really the shit you want to be doing tonight?” The voice asked as the blade tore downwards. The voice was coming from the blade, not the bear. Todd couldn’t move.

“It’s a nice night.” The knife retreated as it got to Shmee’s groin. “There’s so much more you could be doing.” Dark spider legs pushed through the cut before splaying out on either side. They then spread, becoming fingers, and Shmee continued to tear. Todd watched as the thing inside began to unfold and unfold and unfold, not unlike a telescope being pulled out to its full-length.

It kept going until Todd found himself staring up at a thin tower of a person. They were completely black, a shadow instead of skin, with only the sharp smile of a knife where a mouth should be. A gasp escaped him as two white eyes appeared. Instead of pupils, one was cut through with a black _Z_ and the other a _?_.

“I could show you,” the voice said as hands rested on Squee’s sides. “I mean, we are neighbors after all.” A thin finger traced down Todd’s jaw, over his neck and naked clavicle, and down to his bare groin. He was no longer a soft, small child; and he stood grown and naked in the middle of a void with only the shadow for company.

“N-Nny?”

A finger plucked at his lower lip and the eyes came closer. A sharp nose bumped his and breath that reeked of old sugar filled his nose. 

“That’s right, Squee,” Nny said, the hand on his belly slipping down to grip his dick. “You only have to call me when you need help, you know.”

Todd gasped, body shaking as the long fingers pumped. He hadn’t realized he was hard.

“Do you remember how to do that, Squee?”

Todd couldn’t respond. The only things that seemed to be keeping him upright were the eyes staring at him and the hands on his body.

“It’s easy.” Nny leaned in, his body becoming more defined. His skin started to lighten from shadow to phantom, though the slash of his smile and whites of his eyes were still stark against his complexion.

“All you have to do—” Nny twisted his hand around Todd’s cock and Todd gasped, his hands finally moving to grip Nny’s shoulders. He could feel thin lips smiling against his own.

“—is scream.”

The blade sliced into him from groin to sternum, his body bowing from the force of it as both blade and orgasm ripped through him. He stared up at the white eyes and the jagged smile. 

“Do you need me, Squee?”

Todd opened his mouth and—

“—eather forecast calls for rain with high winds for the rest of the day, listeners. So for all those commuters out there, remember the galoshes and don’t skimp on the scarf. It’s going to be a chilly one.”

Todd’s eyes snapped open and he sat upright only for his head to immediately start spinning. His heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him, his body still heavy from sleep and orgasm. Outside, the rain beat against his window, daring him to leave the house and come out and play.

He looked at the panes of glass and almost expected them to be broken, what with the wind howling so loud, but they were still whole. Outside, it was dark, the sun refusing to even touch the sky at this ungodly hour. Todd laid back on the bed.

“Buckets,” he muttered to himself. “Need to get out the buckets.”

His old alarm clock continued to tell him and all the other early risers about the sparse 4:30 AM traffic as he laid in his sticky mess of cum and sweat. Already, his heart rate was dropping, which was good. He wasn’t starting the day off with a panic attack. That would make the opening shift easier. 

The phone on his small bedside table went off. Fifteen-minute reminder— time to shower.

He grunted and rolled over. The mattress was somewhat concave; comfortable enough when he slept in the middle, but a pain to get out of in the morning. The queen-sized bed had only been a hundred and fifty dollars at an estate sale, frame and headboard included. It was better than the twin he kept on the floor when he first moved in. That one had been on its last leg for sure, being almost fourteen years old when Todd was finally able to throw it out.

The floorboards protested as Todd finally threw his legs over the side and his feet pressed into the wood. He debated doing his usual routine: situps, pushups, and a few burpees; but overrode the idea as he peeled the sheet off himself.

“Great.” The sheets went into the laundry basket, right on top of the ones from a few days ago. He’d have to go out and do another load of laundry soon. He hated doing more than three sets of sheets at a time. People always stared.

He didn’t put on his robe before heading down the hall. That didn’t mean that Todd didn’t want it. The house was freezing while walking down the half-painted hallway with a cum-covered stomach and sweat-soaked boxers. He wanted to keep the laundry at a minimum, though, so he forwent its threadbare warmth and braved the icy hall.

On the walls, a few pictures of himself stared out into the dark hall. He glanced at them, seeing a flash of almost twelve years pass within seven pictures. Only one was with his parents. The photo was one of the few items he had been able to take from his old house before the new owners came and threw out all things his parents had left behind. The others were with the asylum children, Pepito, or both. Somehow, Todd had a smile in each one.

He quickly looked away and focussed on not getting a splinter in his foot. The throw rugs he had gotten only worked if he didn’t step on any of the wood in between. 

Every pipe in the old house clanged as he turned the taps. The bathroom was a little warmer, the previous owner had gotten around to fixing it up, though he never did paint over the drywall. The plastic walls of the shower had been put in place, though, and that was all that he needed for a functioning wash area. It was also one of the few rooms in the house that wasn’t completely covered in stains. At least, the walls weren’t. Todd had never been able to get the grout between the tiles to turn even close to a gray color; it was forever a sickly brown.

Todd brushed his chattering teeth and took his morning dose of sanity in pill form as he waited for the water to heat up. He judged himself in the oblong bathroom mirror. It was a dump grab, the glass clouding at the edges, but it worked. He judged his shaved sides, lifting up the longer hair from the top of his head to see if it was time to trim the undercut. He deemed it short enough and the old dog shaver got to stay in its cupboard for another day.

Todd also judged if the cut on his right bicep was doing alright. One of his co-workers hadn’t put away a butcher knife correctly, and Todd had been the one to receive the lovely slice when it slipped from a shelf and slid over his skin. His self-inflicted stitches looked okay. The flesh was a little red but didn’t seem infected, and he quickly wrapped that part of his arm in cling wrap to keep it from getting wet in the shower. He was going to do his best to keep it from getting infected. The last thing he needed was a surprise medical bill, or his teacher giving him grief for not cleaning it correctly. He was also lucky it hadn’t fallen higher. A black square was printed into his skin, stark against his flesh, with two symbols inside. Z?

He shivered and looked away from his arm. Getting a Tattoo had been Pepito’s idea, something to help drive off would be abusers by making Todd look like a ‘bad-ass’. Todd had known it was just because Pepito had always wanted him to get one, had even picked out the tattoo, but the second Todd was in the chair he had changed his mind. It had only taken a second for him to sketch the image, and while the artist hadn’t really understood why Todd had wanted it, he had done it.

Pepito had been pissed that the horned skull had been nixed, tried to get him to do his other shoulder, but tattoos were expensive, or at least that was Todd’s excuse. Honestly, he just thought it would be weird to essentially have his best friends skull on his arm, even if no one could really see Pepito’s horns anymore; not unless he wanted them to.

Waiting for the water to heat was torturous as he stood shivering in the bathroom, and Todd decided that maybe doing his workout would be a good idea after all. He dropped to the tile, colder than his rug, but at least he wouldn’t have to pull any stray splinters from his palms, and started to go through the movements.

Seven years he’d been doing this. He had figured out when you were small and round you got picked on, tall and gangly even more so -as his growth spurt had taught him- but when you added muscle to height, then people started to back off. Well, most of them. There were always the assholes who still wanted to fight him just for violence’s sake. 

Todd was not great at the fighting bit, but he could lift most people up at least an inch or two and toss them away before booking it out of there; or give a decent shove if they were a lot larger. His lean muscle was good for running. All the weird stuff that happened around him had made running a priority in his life. Well, all the weird stuff and chasing after run away children before the orderlies could.

As soon as there was a hint of steam, Todd was in the shower, the brief workout having done very little to warm his chilled skin. 

The sound of falling water mixed with the storm outside and for a moment he feared electrocution. Being hit by lightning wouldn’t be the oddest thing to happen to him, but it could still hurt him, scar him, or kill him. Todd quickly shoved that fear away. He had to remind himself that he was safe, not near a window, and that he had put all electrical appliances on the other side of the room. His assurances helped, even if something kept squeaking fearfully in the back of his head. Todd ignored it and washed, taking special care on his arm. He was halfway through washing his hair when there was a loud bang outside and the power went out.

“Really?” he groaned as she stood in the pitch darkness of the bathroom. He didn’t have any candles in here. At least his phone was on the sink. He kept showering as he waited for his next alarm to go off and the screen to illuminate the bathroom enough that he could grab his towel from the toilet. Outside the storm raged.

The freezie jingle went off in the dark. Todd shut the water off quickly and stepped out onto the rough bathmat. The face of the phone brightened the room and gave him enough time to grab his towel, wrap it around himself, and snatch up the small electronic before the cracked screen went black. 

After toweling off the worst of the water, he headed for the bedroom with water still dripping from his hair. He used his phone and the flickers of lightning to get through the hallway. It was slow going, his feet careful to find a rug before setting down. He was almost to his room when there was a series of bangs from the front of the house. 

“The hell?” He checked the phone. It was just past five. Maybe it was just the wind? Had a branch from next door come loose? But the banging came again and then it was followed by the very distinct sound of a door closing.

Todd shut off the light on his phone.

Fuck. Not again. Why did people always target his house for squatting? Todd didn’t have anything worth stealing, that was easy enough to see, and while there was stuff in the house, it looked abandoned no matter what he did to try and brighten it. That didn’t matter much, though. A lot of the houses on the block looked like they had been abandoned, not moved out of, including his old home. The new occupants hadn’t stayed long, and when they had moved out, the foreclosure sign had continued to hang and hang and hang. Just like most of the other houses, except for his. The only way he was ever going to make it look like someone lived in his home was if he finished what the past owner had started, but paint and repairs cost money, and all his was going towards school loans and keeping himself alive.

Todd walked silently down the hall, his feet finding the rugs through feel. He clasped his phone and towel in his left hand and had his right ready to strike. Lightnight painted shadows around the living room as he stepped out of the hall.

He took another step and felt something wet under his foot. It was icy cold and his stomach dropped. Leak or intruder? He couldn’t be sure. Shit.

“Power’s out.”

Todd swung on instinct.

His hand was caught immediately, jarring his arm. The grip had no give, and the shock of his own punch traveled up the appendage and made it jerk.

“Someone’s jumpy this mornin.” Lightning flashed, revealing a shorter figure, much thinner, and horned. Steam poured off of them as they stood in the living room, making the glow of their eyes waver in the heat.

“Damn it, Pepito,” Todd hissed as he jerked his hand back. “I could have hit you.”

“And it might have actually done some damage,” Pepito chuckled as he shook his hand. “What do they have you lifting behind that meat counter. Entire cows? Not that I’m complaining, good to know you might be capable of putting my ass into submission.” One of his eyes winked, the glow flickering.

Todd felt an uneven blush spread over his cheeks, though his adrenaline still sat heavy in his belly. He hated when Pepito surprised him like this. 

“You could have called out you know.” 

“And missed out on seeing you like this? No lo creo.” The eyes raked up and down Todd’s body. He pulled the towel tighter around his waist.

“You keep doing this and I’m going to take your key,” Todd grumbled.

“I’d just make a new one.” Pepito’s eyes stayed on Todd.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked.

“Guy can’t show up and give his mejor amigo a ride to work?”

Yeah. Not likely. “Your Dad had you training again, didn’t he.”

Pepito shrugged. “Can’t slip anything past you. Still can’t quite get the timing between planes of existents down. Thought it was already past ten.” 

“Mind putting those eyes of yours to use and helping me find my candles?”

“Oh, I’m already putting them to use.” Pepito’s eyes grazed over his skin again. Todd felt like he needed another towel.

“Come on, man. I’m going to be late if I don’t get going.”

“Alright, alright, though don’t know why you’d need candles when you’ve got me.” A flame appeared, bright white and warm enough that Todd had to step back. “You’ve got the príncipe del fuego at your service.”

Todd couldn’t help the smile that touched his face. “Thanks.”

“Whatever you need, I’m your demon.”

Pepito helped Todd find the candles, shoved under the sink, and grudgingly lit one for Todd to take to his room. 

“Not like I haven’t seen you in less,” he grumbled as he handed it over. 

Todd stuck his tongue out at him. Pepito responded in kind, tongue sliding out. The muscle then split down the center, breaking the illusion of one. Todd watched as Pepito lifted a candle and ran it between the two tongues. 

It could have been sensual if Pepito hadn’t immediately started spitting out melted wax.

“Maldita sea!” 

Todd laughed. “Serves you right, you pervert. I’ll be right back.” He grabbed the buckets from under the sink before heading to his room.

Getting dressed went quickly, and on his way back to Pepito he set up buckets in his room, the hall, and living room. By the time he got back to the kitchen, Pepito was sitting at the table holding an egg.

“Cogé.”

Todd’s heart jumped as the white sphere flew to him. He caught it gently, cradling it to his chest. He didn’t have to worry, the second he held it he knew it was cooked; boiled in its own shell.

“Figured you’d need something to eat.”

“Thanks, I hadn’t even thought about breakfast.”

Without power, his hotplate was nothing but a glorified paperweight. The stove was gas, so he could have used that; if he had a death wish. The last time he had tried to use it, the burner had erupted into a volcano of fire that had scorched the ceiling, and that was on low. He decided not to see what would happen if he turned it too high. 

He quickly began to peel the egg as he walked around the kitchen. 

“What were you doing in hell this time?” he asked around a bite of egg. Todd pulled out lunch fixings from his dark fridge, and began making a sandwich; Bologna with mayonnaise and the last of the off colored lettuce his boss had given him. 

“You know, the usual. New tortures, learning the family business, all that shit.” He was holding another egg. “Papa keeps talking about going on vacation, second honeymoon. Mama’s been wanting one for years now.”

“But you guys’ve been on vacation before.”

“Yeah, but Papa always has to pop down. Guess it kills the mood when his beeper is going off every hour.” He handed Todd the second egg and picked up another.

“He still uses a beeper?” Todd asked as he alternated between making his sandwich and peeling the second egg.

“You know what I mean.” Pepito bit into his still shelled egg, face cloudy.

“So...what’s that mean for you?”

“Means I’ll be stuck on fucking babysitting duty while Papa gets laid.” He side eyed Todd. “Could always use a little company down there. Could teach you how to use a rack, or you could put those butcher skills to use. Wouldn’t count as a sin, they’re already damned and dead.”

“I-I’m okay.” Todd felt his stomach twist at the idea of taking a blade to anyone, even a damned someone. He quickly swallowed the last of his egg to keep from gagging.

“Come on; I know you’d have fun.” 

Todd focused on cutting his sandwich. “I don’t think so.”

“You’ve got the lujuria de sangre, Todd. I can smell it.” Pepito’s words were right in his ear, hot breath on his neck, and Todd spun. The knife pressed against Pepito’s throat as Todd’s heart beat hard against his ribs.

The thought to slice through Pepito's skin flashed in Todd’s mind; to feel real, warm blood that wasn’t his own flow down his arm.

“Don’t do that,” Todd said as he forced his arm down. “I hate when you do that.”

“Ooooh, got close that time. Could almost taste that blood lust.”

“You're so full of crap.” Todd gave Pepito a friendly shove and forced a smile on his face.

Pepito grinned. “Hey, son of el Diablo, course I am.”

Todd’s phone went off again, a welcome distraction. He needed to get going.

“You still offering that ride?” he asked as he grabbed an old lunchbox.

“Whole reason I’m here.”

“You mean you’re not here to try and get me to damn myself?” Todd asked in mock shock.

“Eh, that’s a constant.”

Todd shook his head and laughed again as he put his lunch into the lunch pail. He had the weirdest friend.

He grabbed the box, his keys, and jacket before stepping out with Pepito. Down the street, he could see sparks at the bottom of one of the powerlines.

“You do that?” He motioned to the hissing electrical wires.

Pepito shrugged. “Shit happens, man. Though I can’t say I don’t like the vibe it’s putting down.” He looked at the broken cross of wood, the powerlines crackling and snapping around it. “Maybe they’ll finally fix these shitty lines now.”

“Doubt it.”

The two turned from the house that sported triple sevens next to the door and sprinted for the car. 

The second Todd was in the vehicle, he relaxed. Pepito, steaming freely, switched on the air to keep his windows from fogging. The air was warm, thankfully, and Todd pulled off his sopping jacket to let the heat sink into his skin. It really was one hell of a storm. His jacket, shoes, and most of his pants were soaked.

“Give it here.” 

Before Todd had a chance to react, Pepito snatched the jacket from his hands and threw it in his lap. It didn’t take long before it too started to steam gently.

“Thanks.”

“Could do your pants too,” Pepito told him. The lights of his dashboard lit his face and Todd could see his grin all too well.

“I think I’ll be okay,” Todd told him.

Pepito shrugged. “Just tryin to be nice.” Pepito pulled off the curb and headed into the rainstorm.

“If anyone’s pants come off you’re not going to be ‘nice’.”

“Oh, I’m nice,” Pepito replied, grin on his face and eyes on the road. “I’m nicer than you’ve ever seen. Wish you’d let me show ya.”

Todd gave a laugh, a forced one, but a laugh nonetheless. Pepito flirting was still one of the biggest WTF things to his brain. Pepito slept with anything humanoid that had a pulse, though Todd wasn’t quite sure about the pulse part. Did the damned even have one? Sometimes it was hard to tell if he was joking, but he had to be. Right? They were friends after all, and adding sex to that would make things...complicated.

“Aw, don’t laugh,” Pepito pouted. “I’m the sweetest friend you have.”

“Oh, shut up.” Todd gave him a gentle shove. “You’re the only friend I have.”

“Good to know I still outrank that pretentious prick of a lab partner.” Pepito’s smirk turned into a sneer. 

“Dib’s not that bad. He’s just...weird.”

“Say the guy who’s mejor amigo is the devil’s son.” Pepito blew through a four way stop, which was thankfully empty.

“He thinks Zim’s an alien, though.”

“And you don’t?”

Todd sat in thought for a moment. “Well he doesn’t look like any of the ones I’ve seen, and green skin isn’t all that weird… is it?” A couple of the kids at the asylum had green skin while he was there. He had never really gotten to know them too much, though. They stayed in their own little world. 

Pepito let out a long laugh as he took a corner just sharp enough to make Todd grab the armrest.

“There’s more out there than just what you’ve seen.”

“And it’ll be too soon before I see more of it.”

Pepito’s grin grew. “You know some shits going to happen now, right?”

A groan inched from Todd’s throat. “Damn it.”

Pepito cackled, car speeding down the road and hydroplaning around a corner.

“Can you not kill me this morning?”

“Don’t worry; I wouldn’t do that.” Pepito took another corner, just as sharp, and Todd prayed to whatever was listening to not hit the tree on the corner. “Not until I get you to sign that soul of yours over. Can’t have you goin to heaven, I’d never see you again.” He ended the sentence with a false pout.

“Good to know I’m somehow going to heaven.” His voice came out a tad tight, though Pepito seemed to ignore it.

“It’s a shit hole from what Papa’s told me.”

“And hell isn’t?”

“Least we still have sex.” Pepito turned to look at him, his grin wide, and Todd did his best not to shit himself as they blew through a red light and past a truck with a blaring horn.

Todd flipped Pepito off. The gesture seemed to just spur Pepito on to drive a little more recklessly. By the time they made it to the backside of the store, Todd was just mildly about to vomit, as in forcing himself to swallow it. Pepito seemed completely fine.

“Thanks for the ride,” Todd managed as he pried his hand off the ‘oh shit’ handle above the door.

“No problem, ese.” Pepito tossed over Todd’s now toasty warm, and dry, jacket. “You sure you don’t want me to do your pants? You have time.” His hand slid over Todd’s thigh. The heat of it went through the cloth immediately. Pepito had a shit eating grin on his face again.

“Maybe you should go stand out in the rain for a bit,” Todd replied as he went to open the door. “Think you could use the cold shower.”

“Ooooh, my pride has been blighted.”

“I think you mean bruised.” Todd slid out of the car.

“Cállate, or you’ll be walking to campus Monday.”

“Then you can do your own homework this weekend.”

“Not on your life,” Pepito called just before Todd closed the car door. Taking a step back, he watched as Pepito peeled out.

The light above the back door pooled around him as he watched the car zoom out of the ally. He listened to the engine fade into the wind and rain before turning to the door. He had sides of beef to take out of the freezer, others to carve, and even more cuts to do before the little grocery store opened at eight. 

Todd slipped the manager key into the lock and turned. As soon as he did, there was a bolt of lighting and the sound of a small explosion. The light above him flickered out.

“Damn it, Pepito.” He could already hear people whining about the store doing cash only throughout the day.

Oh well. 

He pushed into the store, phone out, and headed for the power box. No luck, it wasn’t tripped fuses but a full outage. Hopefully, the city would get the power fixed before opening. He hated ringing people up with a calculator.

The city did no such thing. Not even close. Todd ended up staying long past his eight-hour shift, closer to twelve hours, helping co-workers -the ones who bothered to show up anyway- field customers, pack the freezers with ice, and divvy up items that were lost causes by the end of the day among the employees.

He ended up coming home with more free food than usual, not that it mattered. He had no hotplate to cook any of it on. Todd instead shoved it in his currently only cool -not cold- fridge, ate a sandwich in the dim light coming through the clouds, and worked on the biochemistry homework both he and Pepito would need for Monday. He also pulled out his small sketch book, the one he needed to fill for his art class, and added a few new ‘character’ drawings. They were really just overdone versions of some of the more ‘memorable’ customers of the day; a few times he had to fight the urge to draw random weapons of violence sticking out of them. 

Todd left his human body work for later. He only had the class three times a week, and he was too brain dead to try and fill it out. Not that it would be much of a problem. Spending a chunk of his life in an insane asylum had taught him quite a bit about the body after all.

The candle he had been using was almost completely gone by the time he shuffled into his room. The bare bed looked at him accusingly until he covered it with sheets from the closet. He noted he had two extra pairs left. He really needed to do laundry. Too bad the dryer always dyed everything an off shade of pinkish brown, and no matter what he had tried, he couldn’t figure out why. He’d have to see if Pepito would be willing to take him to the laundromat sometime during the week.

“New case for you, Shmee,” he murmured to his bare pillow. It had a cut down the side, one that had been sewed back up. What was left of his tattered teddy bear was inside, the cloth body having fallen apart to a point that stitches didn’t do anything but delay the inevitable. The bear’s fluff worked well with Todd’s pillow, though, and it kept Shmee nearby.

“Today sucked,” Todd sighed as he pulled the top sheet over his bed. “Though I imagine you could have guessed that. We had no power and everyone was in a bad mood." He pushed the pillow into the fresh case and held it tight. "Maybe I should keep some of your stuffing with me again, like when I was a kid.” He smirked at the idea, though he knew he wouldn’t do it. He hadn’t touched the bear since he sewed up its pieces into the pillow, and he doubted he ever would again.

“Have tomorrow off at least. Maybe I’ll pull that paint out of the basement.” He paused. “Yeah, bad idea. Too damp for it to dry right.” He heaved a sigh and went to his dresser. “I’ll get around to it someday.” Todd pulled on the softest, most thread-bare T-shirt he owned, and then slipped in between the sheets. The red light on his phone blinked at him expectantly, but there was no power to feed it. He reached over and held the power button until it turned off, hoping to save the last ten percent just in case he had an emergency.

“Least they won’t be able to call me in tomorrow,” he muttered as he set the now off phone on his side table.

“Good night Shmee,” he said into his pillow. Outside the rain spit down, the clouds began to break, and Todd fell asleep as the moon peeked through his curtainless window.

Todd found himself stitching up Shmee’s chest, hands working deftly. He was the larger of the two of them this time.

“You gonna listen tonight?” the bear asked, paws crossed over his upper chest. “Or you gonna go looking for _him_?”

Todd didn’t say anything, just kept stitching the unending hole in Shmee’s sternum as the bear laid across his thighs. He didn’t pay attention to the screaming down the hall.


	2. Welcomed Home with Sharp Smiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About time Johnny came home. What do y'all think?

The street was shittier than Johnny remembered. The houses looked like trailers, the trailers like collapsing dog houses, and the dog houses were nothing more than remnants of toy boxes. Broken, empty toy boxes with bones beneath them that waited to be played like tiddlywinks. Only no one played with tiddlywinks anymore.

Why was that?

He flicked the switchblade in and out of its handle with nothing but his forefinger and thumb as he thought about why tiddlywinks fell out of style. How did he even know about tiddlywinks? Who told him about them? Was the information just in everyone’s heads? Did-

“Huh?” Johnny stopped. The blade had paused, fully unsheathed, and an H glinted in the silvery surface. He cocked his head to look at it. “Yeah, this is where we’re going to live.” He stared at it a moment longer as the muted moonlight stuttered against the knife's surface. 

“Well I’m sorry it’s not the fucking Ritz, H. I mean, yeah this place is more of a shit show than when I left it but--” he paused as he watched the knife flash. “Well, what the fuck do you want me to do about it? Put on some cleats and aerate the neighbor's lawns? I-- Oh don’t you even start with me. If you want to be somewhere with intact walls and a roof then why don’t I just go shove you back in that glassy prison I found you in? Is that what you want, to go back to that gum-popping dillweed, because it wouldn’t be too hard to get back there. It was just down that street.” He pointed out into the dark. “Bet he’s still laying there, bloated like one of his damn bubbles. Bet he still has gum in his teeth for you to pick out, seeing as the fucker kept on chewing even when K was-” Johnny stopped mid sentence and blinked.

Immediately his head jerked down to look at his hip. “What are you talking about?”

A second blade appeared; longer, curved, and a C was carved in jagged lines just above its hilt. It pointed in an opposing direction to the one Johnny had been talking about. 

“Are you sure?” 

The blade caught the reflected light from the low clouds in a nod.

“Oh, thanks. Roads changed so much I must have- FUCK!” He jerked his head back to the switchblade; only it was no longer a switchblade. 

“What did I tell you about biting, L?” 

L stood smugly in Johnny’s hand, the butterfly’s blade smeared with a line of red. 

“Fuck you, H was rude way before I was. If you want to bite anyone, bite them.” 

The butterfly knife did a little dance around his hand.

“Whatever, fine, I’ll apologize for scaring them, but that doesn’t mean you get to bite me like that. Next time you pull this shit you’re going right into the river.” 

L stilled, the blood on the blade the only thing reflecting the light. 

Johnny stared right back. He paid little attention as C snuck away into its sheath. 

“Don’t make me put you in a wall.” 

L continued to stare, though the light of its blade did droop. 

Johnny gave a curt nod before cleaning the blade on his coat. It wasn’t the first time the dark fabric had seen his blood, wouldn’t be the last, and thank god the fucker was black because laundry machines were getting pricier and pricier and fewer people were carrying coins these days.

He walked past weed filled lawns, long grass, and trash. So much trash. He could do without that. Didn’t anyone care about the damn dirt anymore? They could at least bury the garbage. Burying it would keep it from being a nuisance at least. With all the rain the soil would be easy enough to dig up, though it would also collapse in on itself. So scratch that, fuck digging in the mud. He hated digging in the mud. Hell, he hated digging, unless he didn’t want to think. Digging was good for not thinking. Just jab the shovel in the ground, pick it up, and curse the blisters that popped and-

“Huh? What do you mean I passed it?” 

The yanagi knife acted as if it had always been in his palm. The blade was thin, long, and of course sharp, with only the slightest of guards above the hilt. 

Johnny looked in the direction it was tilted. “You sure, Z? I don’t see any boards.” He took a step onto the lawn of dirt and weeds. Patches of grass glowed silver when the moon was able to break through the clouds. He cocked his head at the boxy house. Okay, so the front did look familiar, but the door was wrong, and there weren’t any boards.

Yet there were the 7s. Three gold slashes next to a door he didn’t know. If he had been driving, he would have gone right past it without a second thought. Thankfully, to a degree, his car had crapped out at the nearest gas station. Some punks arm was wedged up inside the manifold or something. He’d have to find something to pry it out with tomorrow.

“The fuck happened to it?” He stepped up to the door. It was different, the hinges straight and the wood smooth. 

Z shrugged in his palm.

“Maybe they tried to gentrify this place.” He looked back at the dark neighborhood. “Nah.” He gripped the doorknob and turned it. Nothing happened. He frowned and went to a window. Inside he saw stripes of paint on the walls and rugs of unknown origin on the wood floors.

“This can’t be right,” he grumbled. 

Z tapped the glass, pointing. Johnny swiveled his head to the side to see what they were motioning to. There, on the wall, he saw a dark stain straining to be seen under what looked like a few layers of primer. That was familiar.

“Who the fuck was in my house?” 

Z had no answer to that.

Johnny grabbed the window and tugged. Nothing. He moved to the window on the other side of the door and tried it. Again, nothing.

“I don’t know these windows,” he grumbled as he walked around the left side of the house. Over here the paint job on the front tapered off, like whoever had been doing it just gave up on trying to cover up the shit brown color with slate gray.

He stalked along the side, eyes searching the houses sockets and peeking into its soul. The next window was also new, no cracks or breaks, and peaked into a kitchen that looked almost roach free. He raised his fist only for Z to flash at him. 

Keep looking, it told him. No reason to break into his own house. There had to be a window he knew, one that would welcome him home. If not, then he could break the glass. Besides, it might be nice to have actual glass instead of just the wooden planks.

“But I liked the planks,” Johnny grumbled.

Then he could add them later, but for now, he should keep looking.

Johnny sighed but kept going, checking windows and the back door. He had no luck with any of them. It wasn’t until he had almost made an almost full circuit that he found a familiar, cracked pane. It had been the only one who’s glass had been whole when he lived in the house; only one he had kept that way because it was the window he hadn’t put planks over. 

“Hello there,” Johnny cooed. “I know you.” He gripped the sash of the window and pushed it upwards. It wrenched up with a rusty, familiar cry. Yep, it was his old window. He would know that sound anywhere.

“You were right, Z,” he said as he climbed into the dark. The smile on his face didn’t stay for long. Besides him, in the half light of the moon, something moved. He sidestepped whatever it was that flew at him, grabbed it, and pulled. His other hand moved fluidly to push Z into whatever was attacking him, going to slash across the filthy things throat.

Z made it to the throat but did not cross it. They stopped Johnny’s hand without a word of warning despite the fact that he was clearly being attacked. He squeezed Z, trying to get them to move, but they stubbornly stayed in place. 

“The fuck?” Johnny asked the knife. Whatever was in here needed to die. This was his house, after all, and anything inside should be punished for replacing parts of it with things he didn’t know. That and the fact that they had thrown a fist at him. What kind of rude bastard threw a punch at someone in their own home? He’d have to teach them a lesson. At least, he would if Z would FUCKING MOVE!

Yet Z stayed still as Johnny’s eyes focused in the dark, the blade apparently seeing something he didn’t. After a few seconds of staring into the shadows, the moonlight finally seeped in enough to sharpen the shape, and Johnny could see that Z was pressed beneath a jaw that Johnny didn’t recognize. A lazy trail of blood traced down a thin throat before soaking into a ratty shirt that looked too tight on the body beneath it. Whoever this was, they were halfway sitting up, eyes wide in the dark. The whites held the light of the moon as they stared up at Johnny in terror. Beneath his hand, Johnny could feel their pulse in their wrist. He thought about breaking it, but maybe, just maybe, Z had a point in waiting. 

“What are you doing in my bed?” Johnny asked what he assumed was a young man as he tried to urge the knife forward, wanting to at least cause a little more damage. Z refused him, gently of course, because it did not want to upset him any further. Z just thought that there was something familiar about the eyes looking up at Johnny. It also pointed out something to him; this wasn’t his bed. His bed didn’t have sheets that weren’t covered in some sort of stain, and it sure as fuck hadn’t been perfectly parallel to the floor.

Johnny looked around as the person before him stayed very still. The window he had come through was the same; Johnny knew that. The walls seemed the same, even with their fresh coat of paint, and the ceiling had the same crack, but what was this furniture? A bed that wasn’t threatening to drop its sleeper, a desk that was whole and not stripped for parts, and this strange man in the middle of it all.

“N-Nny?”

Johnny snapped his head back towards the stuttering voice. His hand commanded Z to push down and pull to the side, but Z told him no, this time a bit more insistent. Only friends called him Nny, and heaven and hell knew how few of those he had. Most of them were in his coat, or dead. Okay, a lot of them were dead, but that was just a stupid fucking statistic. Death didn’t mean he couldn’t still call them friends.

“How do you know me?” Johnny asked, voice low as he attempted to cover up the struggle he was having with his blade. “You the brainfreezi guy I didn’t tip? Well fuck you, that was the worst service I- Oh wait, no, I killed him. So did I kill you already? Are you not here? You seem here, but it wouldn’t be the first time one of you was not here only to be not not here instead.”

“Nny, it’s me,” the man, well maybe? He looked close to Johnny’s age, whatever that was now. Okay, so maybe the age he was back when he started this whole vacation thing. Aging had apparently broken for him, like a lot of things in his life. He had been twenty...something when the world had decided to do a hard reboot. It looked like this guy was around that age too, at least from what he judged. He always had been shit at telling ages. T.V. was making that worse. Teenagers playing ten-year-olds, adults playing teens, and fucking whoops the guy was still talking.

“-ember me. But it’s me; it’s Todd.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes. It didn’t matter what he had said beforehand, the name Todd was not one he remembered, and he was good with names. At least, he thought he was. Oh well.

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.”

Z started to move then, giving an apology for the confusion as it began to sink into Todd’s throat. As soon as this Todd was gone, Johnny could claim back his space and plunge his knives deep within the new, odd mattress, and go on a hunt for wherever this Todd had put his old stuff. 

Z moved sluggishly, tired from the long trip. Despite its exhaustion, Johnny knew it was excited to see some of its old playmates, but it could wait until later. A few more hours wasn’t going to make a difference. The others would want to sleep too. Being cooped up on Johnny’s person was never fun. Sheaths were nice, but someone’s guts or the fluff of a mattress or couch was always preferred.

“Squee!”

The sound came out high, not as high as it once had, but enough that Johnny stopped before the knife did. 

“Squee?” The round eyes started to look familiar in the unfamiliar face.

“H-hi, neighbor,” Squee squeaked out, his voice reverberating through the knife.

Johnny’s face broke horizontally, his smile feeling odd with how wide it was. “Well fuck me with the pope’s rusty razor, Squee! Why the fuck did you call yourself Todd?”

“B-because its-”

“Oh, I got ya,” Johnny said as his eyes darted to the window. “Staying under the radar, right? Can’t go around saying your own name can you. Is that why you’re here? Keeping away from those nice young men in the clean white coats and the aliens that keep dropping down here. Did they tell you about the tiddlywinks?”

“T-tiddlywinks?” Squee swallowed, and Z demanded that Johnny pull back because they were getting quite bloody now, and they did not want that blood. It was Squee, after all, and neighbors were supposed to be civil, right? Plus what kind of hello was this? 

Johnny jerked the blade back quickly and let go of Squee’s wrist, happy he hadn’t broken it. But while the wrist was whole, the flesh of Squee’s neck was not.

“Fucking damn it, where’s your Bactine?” Johnny snarled, more at himself than the other human in the room.

“It is you,” Squee murmured as he sat on the bed. In the dark, the blood that dripped from his throat was making a pretty, black half circle around his neck as more soaked into the collar of his shirt. Johnny noted that Squee wouldn’t be a half bad looking corpse like that, but Johnny didn’t want Squee as a corpse, he wanted him whole.

“Of course it’s me, who else would be in my house?” he asked him as he started patting at his pockets. Maybe he had some bactine on him.

T assured him that he did not.

Fucking castrated squirrel nuts roasting on a fire. Why did he always forget to pick that up at the store?

“B-but you haven't aged at all.” 

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem to be working quite right.” God damn it all, did he have nothing left on him? He got a chorus of no’s from every pocket and sheath, and one mocking question of ‘why the hell should we know’. He smacked the pocket that housed the snarky swiss army knife. Y asked why Johnny had done that. He ignored Y.

“Though it looks like times been working well for you. Hardly recognized you with that new face. You have to be, what, sixteen now?” 

“Twenty,” Squee replied. Johnny paused and blinked. 

“Well... shit.” That hadn’t been expected. How old had Squee been when he left? Johnny could have sworn he was at least ten. Then again, maybe not. With his parents, Squee always had been resourceful, smart too. Maybe he had been younger? He’d have to ask later; there was still blood dripping out of Squee.

“I guess I have a few birthday songs to sing, but those can wait. Right now we need to find some bactine and...wait, why the fuck are you over here? Neighbors live next door, not in-my-doors.”

“I bought it.”

Johnny cocked his head to the side. “What?” There was an instinctive itch to grab another knife, though he managed to keep from scratching.

“I-I didn’t know how long you were going to be gone. I figured you might want your house waiting for you when you came back, so I bought it.”

A murmur went through his jacket as Z communed with the others. Was this a trap, O asked. They hadn’t been back to the house at all during his vacation, so Johnny couldn’t have possibly sold it. 

X asked why Squee would buy it. Why wasn’t he still next door? 

The others, all of whom Johnny had met while on his vacation, asked who, or what, the hell was a Squee?

Johnny just wanted to know who the fuck had sold his house. 

No one had ever looked at his house; only Squee had ever seemed to notice it, or Johnny for that matter; although there was the occasional traveling salesperson or poll taker. But maybe without the Wall it was just a house now. There had been Jimmy after all. He had found it, so it wasn’t too far fetched, but still. Who could have sold it? Even if it was a normal house now it wasn’t _just_ a house, it was _his_ house, and that meant that Squee was still his neighbor. 

Johnny snapped back to the conversation as Squee said his name again, his voice high and pained. Johnny blinked and realized his hand had moved and that L was pushing into Squee’s shoulder. Squee gripped Johnny’s wrist tight, doing his best to keep L from going any deeper.

“Stop being rude,” Johnny snapped as he glared down at his hand. Z came up and knocked L away, agreeing with Johnny. 

L flipped at him and Z in response, raving about taking back what was his and not getting sentimental blah blah blah. Johnny decided that L would be better off in the wall until it could stop being an insufferable ass. To all of the blades, skin and stuffing was always fine, but they never did like wood. A fine punishment for the naughty knife as it sat embedded in the old wall above the bed.

“I don’t know why I hang on to the little shit. L has a bad habit of biting people, even me! A more fitting punishment would be to blunt it with a rock, but you never know when you’ll need a butterfly knife.” He glared at L. “You stay there until we figure this shit out. Last thing I need is you attacking our house guest.” Johnny turned back to Squee. “How about we forget about L for a while, we need to go get that cleaned out.” He turned away from Squee, who was holding his shoulder, and headed towards the window.

“I can do that here,” Squee gritted out. “I have the supplies.”

Johnny looked back, his head turned at a new angle. “Why would you have stuff here?”

“Because I _live_ here now, Nny. I bought the house when it went up for sale, and then I moved in.”

Johnny wished he had something to stab just then because a bolt of anger flashed through him. He had never thought of Squee as a liar, but he was starting to think he might be because he wasn’t making any sense!

“See you keep saying that, but I don’t have any recollection of ever putting a For Sale sign out in my yard,” Nny said as evenly as possible. “Doubt it would have stayed very well, too much loose soil. Would have kept falling over. Unless you stuck it in a body of course.” He looked out the window. “But I don’t even remember coming back here until now, so unless I fell and I’m suffering some sort of amnesia, I don’t get how you could have bought this place.” He ran a hand through his hair and paused. Had that scar always been there? “Wait, am I suffering from amnesia?”

“No, Nny, you’re not, buy you’ve been gone for 11, almost 12 years,” Squee replied gently. “The city foreclosed on the house, and a man bought it from them. He was trying to fix it up and sell it, but when he tried to fix it he kept getting hurt, and he couldn’t cover the stains, so he ended up leaving it alone.”

“Well that’s fucking rude,” Johnny snapped. “What kind of city just comes and takes someone’s home without even a friendly phone call to let them know?” 

“Do you have a cell phone?” Squee looked a bit surprised.

Johnny crossed his arms. “Well no, but… Okay, so they couldn’t have called me. Still, it’s pretty damn rude if you ask me.”

“I was surprised too,” Squee agreed. “But when he tried to sell the property again, he couldn’t. It sat on the market for years, and the price just kept dropping. So when I came back and found it for sale, and that the person selling it wasn’t you, I bought it.”

“With what?”

Squee cleared his throat. “My...um...my mental studies funds.”

Johnny didn’t bat an eye. “Still not getting the why here.”

“Because,” Squee murmured as he looked down at his knees. “I thought you might come back, and when you did, I wanted you to have a home.”

Johnny stared at him. What the fuck? “So you are no longer my neighbor?” 

“No. Now I’m more like a, uh,” he paused to swallow. “A roommate.”

“Roommate…” Johnny dragged the blunt side of Z beneath his own chin, and Z was careful not to smear any of Squee’s blood on him. 

Johnny liked Squee, he had always been a good kid, but Johnny wasn’t sure he liked the idea of a ‘roommate’. He had been trying to stay away from the pesky interpersonal relationships of the world. Wasn’t a roommate just that?

“Can’t you just move back into your house?”

Squee shook his head again. “No, too much money. I wouldn’t be able to afford it.” 

“What about your parents then? Or were they abducted?” Fuck, hopefully he hadn’t just committed one of those annoying ‘foot in mouth’ situations. He had never understood that term. Why would anyone put their foot in their mouth? Unless it was severed, and they were screaming, which could be awkward. Maybe that was it.

“I’m not sure where they are.” Squee’s body drooped. Even the hand on his shoulder slid down a little, showing that the cloth beneath was absorbing blood. 

_’Abducted then. Damn it.’_ Johnny tapped Z on his collar bone for a moment as he watched Squee stare at the floor. 

Z went under Squee’s chin again, though it was gentle, and used its blunt side as it lifted Squee’s head up. 

“If I said to leave, or I’d have your guts strung out in my bathtub, where would you go?” He wouldn’t do that of course, well he was pretty sure he wouldn’t. Johnny never would do that to little Squee, but this was not little Squee, this was twenty-year-old Squee, and he didn’t know him yet.

Squee’s breathing stuttered and his pupils went wide. “I don’t have a-anywhere to go,” he told him. 

Johnny could feel Squee’s voice vibrate through Z and into his palm. It was an odd sensation, one that made his belly tighten in what he assumed to be discomfort, but the word didn’t fit quite right. He pulled the blade back so he wouldn't feel it again.

Maybe they were just being rude, Z suggested. It had been a long time since Johnny had really talked to anyone, at least about anything that didn’t involve him asking if the straps were too tight, how much his order was, or if he was causing enough pain, so he was quite out of practice. That could be why he felt so off. 

Johnny agreed with Z immediately. They were being rude, because if all of this was true, then Squee had done a lot for Johnny while he had been gone. More than he would have ever expected from anyone.

Maybe being roommates wouldn't be so bad. 

We can always kill him if he's a bad one, E whispered from his belt. Johnny nodded to himself. If this older Squee wasn’t a friend like he was before, then slitting his throat wouldn’t be a problem, and one relationship couldn’t be all that hard, could it? He could still be distant and cold as long as it was just Squee.

“Then I guess we’re roommates,” Johnny replied as he felt that unfamiliar smile spread over his face. It didn’t fit right like his usual one. It felt nice; wrong, but nice.

“So where is my bed?” he added. “Z and the other’s need to get some rest. Is it in the other room?”

“W-well right now there’s just this one. The previous owner threw out a lot of your old stuff. I tried to save as much as I could,” he added quickly. “But most of what he left had rotted in the basement by the time I bought it, and I couldn’t get the other door down there to open and see if there was anything else.”

“Oh…” Well, that was fucking unfortunate. He felt O, X, and Z slump, the only ones who had once called this place home before his vacation. Even if he hadn’t ever named a blade before his travels -back when he lived in the house, many of blades got snapped at the hilt or became so dull that they became body pins, which he rarely interacted with-, he had been looking forward to shaking hilts with some familiar faces. Oh well, just a few more to add to his list of dead friends. Though that left the question of where the knives were going to sleep. 

He went to tap Z against his chin, but Z was no longer there. 

Johnny looked down to find that Z had buried itself into the mattress next to Squee’s leg. Johnny immediately frowned.

“The fuck is wrong with you? You can’t be that tired,” Johnny snapped at it. The blade stayed still, hilt dull with sleep. It was indeed that tired.

“I can sleep on the couch tonight,” Squee offered, his voice sounding a bit thick. He went to get off of the bed only to be stopped with a jerk. Johnny looked back at Z only to find that the knife was buried not only in the mattress but also in the loose fabric of Squee’s boxers. Johnny glowered at it. All Z did was flicker a response as it caught the moonlight from outside.

Squee, it seemed, was warm and Z liked it. It didn’t want him to move.

“No,” Johnny replied as he reached down and jerked the knife up. It wasn’t happy with him, but went back to its hidden sheath. “Bactine first, then you can rest.” He looked at the cut on Squee’s shoulder. Even with his large hands, Squee couldn’t hide how much blood had spread from the wound. Gravity had already started to pull the red stain down the shirt in a long line that was seeping into Squee’s boxers. 

“Shit, you might need stitches,” he murmured, more to himself than to Squee.

“S’okay,” Squee slurred slightly as he started to unfold from the bed. “Wouldn’ be the first time.” He offered a tired smile, though Johnny was more interested in the fact that Squee was still unfolding, and that he kept unfolding until Johnny found himself looking up at Squee instead of down.

“Holy fuck, you sprung up like a goddamn daisy,” Johnny mumbled. 

Squee’s cheeks darkened a little and his eyes dropped.

“Come on, Squee,” Johnny said as he turned away from the odd face as quickly as possible. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Don’t want L or Z giving you anything communicable.” He started to climb back out the open window.

“Nny,” Squee called. It made Johnny pause halfway through. “Where you going?”

“Oh, right.” He came back inside and closed the window. “Lead the way,” Johnny added when Squee didn’t move, just stood wavering slightly on his feet.

Suddenly, Squee’s face broke into something Johnny had only seen a handful of times. Squee’s teeth appeared, one by one, white and shiny in the thin space between his lips as his mouth turned up at the corners. Still, Johnny remembered the smile well, and even though Squee’s face had changed, his body more so, the smile hadn’t; it was still the slightly crooked smile of the sweet, shy little thing that had given him Bactine and stared wide eyed at him when he would come home with food for the Wall.

He had missed that smile. It had been a part of home, a very small piece, or maybe big. He couldn’t be sure anymore. Time was supposed to put that shit into perspective, right? Well, time was broken, just like everything else, and Johnny found the smile confusing him as much as it comforted him. 

“The house didn’ change that much ya’know.” Squee kept smiling as he headed towards the door, long legs carrying him across the room quicker than Johnny had expected, albeit a bit shakily. 

Johnny followed, but paused in the doorway. There was a whimper of exhaustion from his pockets.

“You’re all insufferable,” he muttered before turning back to the room. Quick as he could, Johnny threw knife after knife into the mattress until the bed was filled and only Z was still with him. It was always dangerous to go anywhere without a blade, and while Z was tired, Johnny trusted it to keep its mind about them. Besides, it had been a long time since Johnny had socialized, and Z was probably the only one who could keep him from doing something too stupid. It would be a pity to do something to his new roommate their first night.

“Nny?” Squee called from down the hall. 

“Stay,” he said to the knives. “And you think about what you did.” He jabbed a finger at L as he stepped into the hallway, ignoring L’s soft swears as he went.

While the hallway was familiar, the images were not. Before he’d left, Johnny had hung doodles in places, maybe a few random things tacked to the wall, like birds or bugs, but now there was a new color on the walls and random pictures. Further down the hall, where the paint thinned out and petered off, Johnny found some familiar stains. He was more interested in the pictures, though, and if Squee wasn’t waiting he might have stopped to look. Well, he could do that later. His roommate was waiting on him, and while he was sure Squee was a capable guy, he knew how much of a bitch stitching up your own chin was. There was no amount of mirrors and angles in the world to make that easy. 

Z chuckled. “Shut up,” he told it as he headed to the bathroom where he could hear things being shuffled around. “You’re the reason I even know that.”

Z smirked in its sheath, the hidden one near Johnny’s chest. Johnny would be damned if he didn’t feel like grinning back. Good thing hell had rejected him years ago because without realizing it, Johnny's face had split into just such a grin.

\----

The lighter shuddered in Todd’s hand as the flame chased the candle wick. It took the flame a few times to catch, but once it did, the candle spread its light through the bathroom. Todd set it on the sink and stared at the ghostly figment reflecting at him in the mirror. His lungs were tight, holding back his breathing, and giving him the appearance of calm even though he wanted to hyperventilate.

“He’s back,” Todd said quietly to himself, eyes looking at the blood dripping from his chin and shoulder. “Nny’s finally back.” Down the hall, he could hear Nny doing...something. He strained his ears and heard distinct, though muted, thuds. 

“Nny?” he called.

His call was followed by the sound of footsteps. The closer they got, the more he wanted to shake. He allowed himself a shiver that made pain shoot through his shoulder, but only briefly. The wound was starting to go a tad numb and that was not a good thing. The metallic scent of blood wasn’t good either. How much had he lost?

Todd pulled out a box full of medical supplies from the bathroom cabinet. Being a twenty-year-old college student without health insurance meant he had quite a stash of first aid items, from bactine to gauze and stitching stuff. Being a pediatrics nursing student helped keep it stocked. 

While the box was heavy from everything shoved into it, Todd could usually pick it up one handed; when his hands weren’t shaking like crazy. Blood smeared onto the cardboard as he gripped the box on either side, his shoulder screaming gently as he lifted it and set it on the back of the toilet. He could not deny how real the pain was.

 _‘He’s back,’_ kept ringing in his head.

If it weren’t for the fact that Shmee wasn’t in the bathroom with him, Todd would have thought he was dreaming. But there was no screaming, no odd stitched up creatures anywhere, no teddy bear, just him in a house with Nny. Nny with his long knives and sharp smile. Todd swallowed against something in his throat. He couldn’t tell if it was a groan, laugh, or a scream, maybe all three, but he held it in. Despite his confused brain and the partial erection he was very much ignoring -because really now, that was not appropriate- he was forcing himself to focus on his shoulder. It needed to be cleaned and stitched, soon, or he’d chance infection.

With the box perched on the back of the toilet, Todd pulled his shirt up carefully. It made his shoulder ache something fierce, but he managed to get his left arm out of the shit, followed by his head, and then slipped it off the injured right arm.

“Again, L’s an asshole,” Nny said as he came into the bathroom. “Bastard has a bad habit of ignoring me and Z.” He tried to flip on the light.

“Powers out,” Todd told him, eyes tracing Nny in the mirror. Todd could see him in the doorway, backlit by moonlight from the hall, making his body look to be made of shadows. His heart skipped as he waited for Nny’s eyes to go white. Instead, Nny took a step forward and his body was mildly illuminated by the candle.

“Oh, well shit.” He took another step inside. “Z apologizes by the way. If we had known it was you then Z would have stayed put. They recognized you before I did, though, kept me from slitting your throat, and what a sad welcome home that would have been.”

“I-it’s okay.” Todd had almost died. Holy hell, he really almost died. “No real damage done,” he added as his hand tried to open the bottle of bactine. His sticky hands were not doing a good job. Todd looked down, doing his best to get the damn cap off. It was hard to concentrate on it, though, his shoulder aching and his eyesight unable to fully focus in the dancing light of the candle.

“Here.” Nny’s arm reached around him, startling Todd enough to drop the bottle in the sink. He found the knife, Z, up again, millimeters from his eye.

“Thanks, Z,” Nny murmured as he went to slip the knife...somewhere. Todd blinked and it just seemed to disappear. “I wouldn’t get in the habit of startling me, though I guess you could say the same. Not used to being around people like this. See, the knives don’t move unless I want them too, at least most of them -the little bastards-, so being around something with its own agency is going to be something new. Don’t worry, though, Z will keep me in check.” He patted his chest. “Same with O and X. Did you ever meet them? No, I doubt it. Would you like to meet them?”

“Sure,” Todd squeaked as Johnny looked at the bottle. There were streaks of blood on it, and Squee watched him wad up some toilet paper before he picked up the Bactine and, with a tight grip and steady hands, turned the cap. It came off with a slight crackling, dried liquid essentially having glued the top shut.

“You should get in the shower,” Nny said.

“What?” Todd’s voiced cracked high, sounding very close to his younger self.

“You’re going to get blood all over the floor, or well more of it, if you stay out here. It’ll be easier to clean it up in there. That, and you’re covered in the stuff.” 

Todd looked down. In the candlelight, his chest looked like it was smeared with dark ink or tar, not enough to be extremely worried, it had just spread over him due to the thin shirt being unable to absorb it, but enough to cause concern. The smell of sweet copper was thicker now that his shirt was off.

“Uh, okay.” Todd turned to the shower. Behind him, he could hear Nny going through his box.

“You’ve got some good stuff in here. How did you get it?” Todd turned to see him pull something out and squish it. “Ooooh, saline.” He tossed it back in.

“Nursing s’pply closet,” he replied, his hand gripping tight to the shower curtain. His head was starting to swim a little.

“Medicine man now? I knew you’d be smart, not that I trust doctors. They have no creativity with their cuts, all surgery and no vision.” Nny kept riffling around in the box. 

“Just a nurse.” Todd started up the water. His tongue felt a heavy in his mouth, his head a tad light. Not a good sign. “Not sure I wanna be a doctor. Have a person’s life in my fingers.” Something about that sentence had been odd, but he couldn’t tell what.

“But that’s the most fun, Squee!” 

Todd found himself being spun around, though the hands quickly left to motion in the air; the knife was back. “Holding their heart in your hands, watching their eyes go wide. It makes you feel so fucking _alive_. They might not feel the same way after, but during it they do. You can see it in the irises, in how they breathe.” Nny looked up at Todd with a grin that looked remarkably sinister in the fire light. 

Todd’s body braced for the feeling of the knife in his gut, his groin aching, and Todd realized that he was more than just half hard. 

“I-I wanna be a school nurse,” he squeaked and almost slurred as he quickly turned to the shower. _‘This isn’t a dream, get ahold of yourself,’_ he told himself, attempting to will away the ache in his loins.

“School nurse?” Nny asked from behind.

 _‘1, 2, buckle my shoe. 3, 4, get on the floor. 5, 6, take your licks-’_ Todd shook his head. No no no, wrong version. That was NOT going to help. Neither was shaking his head. He felt dizzier.

“So you’re going to take care of the children that get the scraped up knees and bloodied lips due to the little assholes running around the playground with a god complex and hopped up on more sugar than a meth head?”

Todd nodded, not trusting his tongue to form the right words. Fuck, why wasn’t the water heating faster? _‘Ten little monkeys jumping on the bed, one fell off and broke his head, Johnny was the doctor and the doctor said, stab the little fuckers in their bed.’_ Todd made a little noise in his throat. Fuck, he couldn’t keep his head straight, and visions of Nny in a doctor’s outfit holding either a scalpel or needle and thread was not helping his problem. Why couldn’t he have a normal libido, with normal turn ons? No, it had to be thoughts of getting his stomach cut opened or being sewn to a wall. Even when he had tried dating and intimacy it had always been there in the back of his head, a shiny blade poised over his heart, and Nny was the one holding the hilt.

“Are you okay, Squee?”

“Fine,” he lied. “Jus’ hurts.” He stuck his hand in the water, and it wasn’t freezing, so screw it. Todd stepped into the shower, boxers still on. Tepid water fell over him and he gasped as pain laced over his shoulder and he shuddered. He quickly wiped away at some of the blood on his shoulder. Thankfully, the cut wasn’t too deep; Todd had stopped it -L?- from going into much more than flesh and maybe a little muscle. The cut was right under the end of his collar bone, a painful place since it was over his deltoid muscle, but as long as he didn’t lift his arm up too high it wouldn’t be that much of a problem. 

“I won’t cut as deep next time,” Nny said offhandedly, his hands still searching through the box.

 _’Next time?’_ Todd asked himself as he scrubbed the worst of the blood away. There would be a next time, with Nny standing over Todd’s bed, blade in hand, and-

 _‘Hickory dickory doc, I want to taste his co-’_ Todd let his head thunk against the side of the shower, keeping his back to Nny. Oh, he was fucked. Hopefully with a kni- No. No no.

“Ready?” Nny asked after a few minutes of Todd attempting to scrub away as much blood as possible. His other stitches were getting wet, he noted, but at this point it didn’t matter. He’d just have to dry them off the best he could after.

“Yeah,” he replied as he reached down and shut off the shower, though he let the tub faucet keep producing some hot water. The bathroom was cold, but having at least the water’s steam helped.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Nny said behind him. “I can reach your shoulder better that way. You sprung up like a dead man's dick. Thought you were going to hit the ceiling when you stood up.”

Had Nny just equated him to ‘angel lust’? It made Todd want to laugh, but he was too dizzy. Nny was right; it would be better if he sat down. Todd did so, maybe a bit quicker and harder than he meant to, and pulled his knees up to his chest to help hide his erection. Water dripped down his body and the cold started to seep in. He scooted closer to the water coming out of the tap so it could run down his calves and feet. Reaching out, he changed the temperature a bit, keeping the water just warm enough to stave off the cold. He wanted to save as much hot water as possible, and it also helped dull his erection.

“There, now I can- What’s this?” The tip of the knife on his shoulder did not help him. It was barely there, tracing the Z of his tattoo. Todd squeezed his legs a little closer to his chest.

 _‘Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,’_ he started singing in his head. _‘I’ll be your spider until the day you die.’_ Nope, wrong lyrics and spiders had eight legs, not two, and didn't wear tall boots with too many buckles.

“Saw you wear it,” Todd muttered, trying to ignore the way Z glided over his skin without catching. “Looked cool.” He had to keep his sentences short, more than a few words and it was like trying to move his tongue around peanut butter.

“Good enough reason. Z likes it at least.” The knife kept tracing. 

“Do...you like it?” Todd chanced a glance. Nny was well lit, the candle sitting closeby. He was sitting on the side of the tub.

Nny shrugged. “It suits you, I guess.” 

The smile that touched Todd’s mouth startled him. Hearing Nny’s acceptance of the tattoo had his stomach fluttering pleasantly. That’s why he had gotten it though, right? For Nny?

“Shall we get started?” Nny held up the Bactine.

Todd nodded and faced the faucet. 

“Relax your arm.”

Todd did as directed, letting his right arm hang limp next to him. Nny started to pour on the antiseptic, and it burned, almost pleasantly, in the wound. It bubbled up, clearing away the coagulation that hadn’t washed out and allowed a meager flow of fresh blood to well into the cut. Nny pushed a piece of gauze into Todd’s shoulder. Todd felt the drag of latex on his skin as it was cleaned. Good, Nny had found the gloves. 

“Here I am nursing the nurse,” Nny chuckled. “Seems a bit backward.”

“Not a nurse yet,” Todd told him softly, doing his best to keep his sentence from shaking as Nny kept cleaning.

“Not yet, but if you have any tips or tricks let me know. I’m self-taught, so I’m sure you could give me a few pointers.” He patted away the last of the moisture around Todd’s shoulder.

Todd laughed. He wasn’t sure why, but he did. Z was suddenly under his neck, licking at the already slit flesh. His laughter quickly died, his breathing stilled, and his heart rate spiked; adrenaline sang through him and made him dizzy.

“Stay still,” Nny told him. “If you do that again I’ll end up making these crooked.”

“Wha-” Todd clenched his teeth as he felt the first sting of the stitching needle. Not because he needed to cover up a moan, not at all, because that would be messed up. That would be terribly, irrevocably, messed up. Just like dreaming about his neighbor jerking him off and stabbing him. No, he was clenching his teeth because it hurt, which it did, and that was a normal reaction; it was what he was supposed to do.

Todd kept his teeth clenched as Nny worked the needle swiftly, fingers tying off the thread in fast jerks before he would cut the thread with Z. Each prick to Todd’s skin, every pull, made Todd’s dick jump. Thanks to years of nightmares gone wet dreams, his brain couldn’t differentiate the endorphins running through his skull. It didn’t matter that they were for his shoulder, they went to his dick anyway.

 _‘He’s doing an interrupted cruciate stitch,’_ he told himself, trying to focus on his training instead of the feeling. Todd couldn’t actually see the stitches from this angle, but he could feel Nny making the X mark pattern before expertly tying up the stitch with quick fingers and then used his knife to snip it.

“It’s like sewing up butter,” Nny muttered. “These medical grade needles are wonderful. Wish I had a few of these. Would have made closing up the cuts easier when I had an unruly guest.”

Todd kept his eyes on the faucet, teeth tight. He felt sounds building in his belly. There was a tight tug at his shoulder before he heard Nny toss the used needle away. Todd shifted his shoulder; three stitches.

“One down, one to go.”

At first, he thought the thing on his chin was Z again, but instead, he found it to be the very tip of Nny’s pointer finger. It lifted his chin and turned his face towards the flame of the candle. Todd saw Nny’s face, a look of curiosity in his eyes as he looked at Todd’s chin. Todd quickly shut his eyes and swallowed. Oh fuck. 

The Bactine slid over his skin, burning and bubbling, and was followed by gauze to clean it away and prep the flesh.

“Chin up, Squee,” Nny chuckled. “Almost done.”

Todd did as he was told, holding his chin up higher as he kept his eyes shut. His throat felt dry as parchment as the needle settled into his skin and pulled.

“Damn, can’t quite see.” Nny’s hand gently forced Todd’s head back, his palm under the corner of Todd’s jaw, thumb along the jawline, long fingers slipping up the side of Todd’s face and into his hair. The grip was tight, keeping his neck bent at an odd and somewhat unpleasant angle. There was another tug on his neck.

Todd’s groan vibrated in his throat, even if his mouth was shut tight.

Nny paused.

“You okay? I go a little too deep? Hard to gauge where to push this thing when it’s going into someone else.”

Todd’s brain twisted the words into an image that almost had him groaning again.

“‘m oka,” he replied between his clenched teeth. Nny’s grip wouldn’t let him move his jaw.

“Good to hear. But let me know if I hit any vocal cords. Don’t want to sew those shut. Want to hear all about how times been working for you.”

Todd sat very still as Nny kept sewing, the needle sliding into his flesh, and this time it didn’t stop. Instead, it would push into one side, pull through the other, and then a tug. _‘Ford Interlocking,’_ Squee thought as Nny did a continual stitch. The needle went in and out, in and out, the suture thread knotting in on itself. 

He peeked once between cracked eyes. Nny’s face was contorted in concentration, eyes slitted, and he could see a red tinged hand pull back. In the candle light, it almost looked like Nny wasn’t wearing the gloves.

Todd had never felt so hard in his life.

“Aaaand, done.” The glee in Nny’s voice was apparent. “Not bad for my first time doing this. Well, not first time, but you know what I mean.” His hand left Todd’s face, and he found himself following the touch. 

“Keep your head up, still gotta snip ya.”

Todd quickly stopped and tilted his head back up. There was the gentle tug as Z cut the thread.

“Going to guess you can do the bandages after you get out.”

Todd opened his eyes and felt his heart pound. Nny was fully upright, not kneeling, and the difference in their height was so much like his dreams. He watched Nny pull the gloves off with a snap.

“Y-yeah,” Todd stammered.

Nny grinned down at him. “I’ll leave you be then, roomie.” Nny turned on his heel and headed out of the bathroom, whistling. The door started to shut and Todd’s hand shot down to his hips. His nails started to rip at his wet and bloodied boxers, his groin aching terribly. The door opened again and he froze.

“I’ll take the couch tonight,” Nny said, head peeking in. “Be nice to have a bed to myself for once.” 

_’Huh?’_ The hell had Nny meant by that. He didn’t ask, though, the door had already started to close. Besides, Todd had more pressing matters. He went back to removing his boxers.

“By that I mean you’ll have bedmates tonight,” Nny said as he opened the door back up. Todd stopped and looked up at him, praying Nny couldn’t see into the tub at this angle. He already had his boxers pushed halfway up his thighs. “I already put the knives to bed in your mattress.”

_‘What?!’_

“O-okay,” Todd stammered. How bad could it be, there were probably only a few, and he could always shift them.

“Great. Goodnight.” Nny gave him a smile that made him feel both fear and anticipation. The bathroom door shut and Todd practically ripped his boxers off. He didn’t think about shutting off the faucet. He didn’t shut the curtain. Todd’s hand gripped his dick and he immediately began to jerk himself, head thrown back as he breathed hard and ragged against the stitches under his chin. The cut in his shoulder ached terribly as he worked himself with his wounded arm.

_‘He’s back. He’s back; he’s back, he’sback he’sback, he’sbackhe’sbache’sback-’_

“Nny,” he said between gritted teeth, the name vibrating in Todd’s throat. It pulsed against the stitches along with Todd’s wild heartbeat.

Todd gasped, his eyes flew open, and his body shuddered as he came in the shower. His throat ached as he took in deep breaths of damp air. Around him, the room was going hazy with steam now that the door was closed, and the candlelight seemed to blink through each drop of moisture. Todd’s shoulder throbbed, his throat burned, and it all mingled with the ache of orgasm.

He panted in the light of the candle, his body quickly turning cold due to the damp and loss of body heat. Todd felt like a slab of concrete being carried by a dirigible. It was a beautiful kind of weightlessness that he happily let carry him for a time.

When he could finally lift his head, Todd looked up to find cum had painting the wall above the faucet.

“Shit,” he whispered.

He got up on shaking legs and began to clean up his mess. The box went back in the closet, his boxers hung over the shower rod, and the blood mopped up with toilet paper. The entire time he tried to keep his mind busy by focussing on the ache in his shoulder and the exhaustion tugging him towards his room.

Once his new stitches were dressed, and his old ones dried, he headed back to his room as quietly as he could. All was dark, all was quiet, and he could only see the foot of the couch from the hallway.

“N-night, Nny,” he called softly.

“G’night, Squee. Let me know if any of them act up.”

Them? Todd turned to his doorway and found his new bed mates. He counted 24 as he went to his dresser and pulled out fresh boxers.

If he hadn’t already came, the sight of his bed filled with knives might have done him in. They were in an odd shape, almost two half moons, like they were waiting to spoon him. Had Nny done that on purpose?

 _’He’s back,’_ his brain said once again.

Todd glanced at the window Nny had climbed in from, then at the blades, and smiled. 

Not a single knife nicked him as he climbed into bed, and not a one protested when he pulled a blanket up and over them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time every writing Nny from Nny's point of view. Still not sure how well I'm doing with him, so if you have any feedback please feel free to give it!


	3. Sharp Claws,  Sharp Knives, and Sharp Tongues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, my Spanish grammar is horrible. I can read it, I can (mostly) understand it, but you ask me to speak or write it and I'm just like 'WHERE DOES THIS GO!?'. So, I did my best with Pepito's dialogue in this, but if someone who speaks Spanish sees something that is completely wrong, please feel free to let me know so I can fix it. I was looking at grammar books until my eyes crossed and double checking in translators, but if I missed something I would love to know so I can both fix it and learn about it.
> 
> Besides that, I hope you guys enjoy Nny and Pepito meeting in the shit-show you are about to behold.

Johnny stared up at a ceiling that was both familiar and completely alien to him. Someone had taken paint to it, covering the popcorn encrusted span of plywood and plaster in hopes of covering the stains. They hadn’t done a good job. Johnny could still see telltale signs of blood splatter. The one above him was from some asshole’s caratorid, another near the corner was where he had gotten someone’s head to pop like a grape —that had been messier than expected— and as he laid on the couch, he found himself staring at the Wall.

Whoever had painted it at least painted it something dark. 

Z tilted next to his head, the blade shifting just enough to catch his eyes.

“Hmmm?” He watched the blade for a moment, listening for a voice that wasn’t quite there. The knives weren’t like the Doughboys or even nail bunny; their voices weren’t actually audible. At least not usually. It was more like an undercurrent, a feeling, though they were still insanely expressive for pieces of steel with no agency of their own. At least, not to move, but then again, Johnny doubted that. His fingers itched to touch the sheath on his right side; the permanently vacant one.

“Of course I look uneasy, this entire place feels fucking wrong.” He gestured to the room, making his hands useful instead of sentimental pieces of shit. “Nothing is like I left it, even the Wall feels dead. There’s nothing left in here.”

Z tilted, cocking their hilt. And that was a bad thing? 

“If you found yourself in your sheath, but in another jacket, would you feel at home?”

Z paused.

“See, thought so.” He looked back at the ceiling and shifted around. While it was nice not having to listen to his legion of little lances, it was odd not to have their conversations running over his skin. Still, he needed to sleep, or at least do what passed as sleep for him now. Johnny only faintly remembered sleep from before the vacation, and while the memories were very few, he knew that what he did now, when he did it, was not sleep. It was more like putting his body into a sleep mode, like a computer, without ever actually shutting down.

From the bedroom, he felt the slightest swear from L.

Z gave him a pleading glint.

“No, fuck no. L knows what happens when he bites, and biting Squee is like biting me,” he huffed and glared at Z. 

Z glared back, pointing out that L had never even heard of Squee. He hadn’t been to the house before tonight.

“So? He was the asshole. He attacked him before I could even explain who he was to everyone.”

Z stood straight and accusing.

“Hey, it made sense for _me_ to attack,” he hissed, eyes darting to the hall and back to the knife. “Squee threw the first punch; I was just ready to keep him from throwing a second. Is that really so bad, that I wanted to protect myself from a would be attacker while climbing into my own home?”

 _"Says the worldly interloper."_ Z’s voice was calm, effeminate, —though calling a knife feminine was like calling a car masculine; it was just stupid— and while it was usually like a balm to Johnny’s brain, their tone instead itched like antiseptic on a wound.

Johnny pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Shut up,” he snarled. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

 _"Then when?"_ Z was closer, down a tear in the couch. _"You have proof now how things have broken. If you don’t talk about it then you’ll-"_

“What? Go insane?’ He gave the knife a nasty grin. “Tad late for that don’t you think? Though I dare say, I’m thinking more clearly than you. Letting L out is dumb as fuck. They’re either pissed enough to cut me or would bite Squee just to get back at me. And don’t you dare tell me they wouldn’t.” He jabbed a finger at the blade.

For a moment, Z glinted brilliantly in the moon. They and Johnny stared at one another; dark eyes to bright steel. In the end, it was Z that wilted and went a little dull.

“Serves you right,” Johnny huffed. “Bringing up shit that should stay buried.”

 _"In a watery grave?"_ Z asked bitterly. 

Johnny gritted his teeth and snarled, “Exactly.”

Silence fell through the room and Johnny refused to look over. Instead, he traced old cracks and new cracks in the ceiling and walls with his eyes; memorized the lumps pushing into his back. The couch wasn’t that horrible, better than some mattresses he’d laid on, definitely better than his car. He’d have to get that tomorrow. Would Squee be willing to go with him? He wasn’t sure he could get at whatever was stuck under the car by himself, not without help. The jack in his trunk was a finicky thing, and he wasn’t sure he was quite long enough to reach beneath without getting stuck. But Squee? He had to be over six feet now. Maybe he could...

“Do you—” he stopped talking when he found that Z was leaned away from him, the hilt almost out of sight as it pointed in the opposite direction. It threatened to fall out of the couch and sleep on the floor.

Johnny shut his mouth and jiggled his leg in the silence. He hated it when Z did this. They were his oldest companion, well besides O. Right? Or was it X then Z then O? They had all come into his life around the same time, the miniature machete, the yanagi, and the cleaver. He debated on going and getting them, maybe reminisce about the house. O had cleaved through a few bones in their time, had the chips in their smile to prove it. And X, well X was as thirsty as some of the newbies. Never could get enough. But Z, Z was his right hand, almost literally. So many times they had kept him from doing something stupid on his trips, talked him down, even reacted before he could and saved his skin. Not that it really needed much saving. Time was broken and…

“We’ll talk about it later,” he grumbled. “Just give me some time to fucking process this shit. World shattering experiences and learning that time really has stopped for me and me alone takes a bit to process. I’m on Earth, after all, shit isn’t supposed to go that wonky down here. Not unless El Diablo or God pulled some strings to make sure I keep being a living breathing shit receptacle.”

Z didn’t budge, just kept dangling from the couch.

A sigh slipped from Johnny. He looked at the door, but there was no way the other knives could see him. He reached up to Z’s hilt. 

Z came begrudgingly, sticking in the couch for a moment before allowing Johnny to pull them out. Taking the hilt in both hands, Johnny laid Z against his chest. He could feel the surprise thrum through his fingertips.

“Don’t get used to this,” he grumbled.

Z gave a tingle of promise that they would not as they pressed their hilt harder into his ribs. Johnny did his best not to smile. It looked like the time for talking was over.

“Needy little shits, all of you.”

He felt Z yawn. 

Johnny laid there, felt Z rest and debated on slipping them back into the couch. He wanted to write in his Die-ary, but with a frown, he remembered that it was still in the damn car; it and the several predecessors. It had been over ten years, though, and it made sense he’d gone through so many. 

He ended up closing his eyes just for the hell of it, to see what would happen. Nothing did. He wasn’t surprised, what with the whore of slumber out fucking everyone else's skulls but his, but feeling the resting knife against his sternum brought him calm at least. He could at least feel Z sleep. 

So Johnny, who wanted to make sure Z got some rest, —and by the bouncing baby blob of a God in heaven, he was going to make sure they did— laid with his eyes closed and did the closest thing he could get to dreaming. He slipped back into his brain, and he started to remember from the beginning; whenever the fuck that was.

By the time the sky was touched with the first hints of gray, the cold light of morning fell upon Johnny’s closed eyelids as his brain slipped into itself and let his body pretend it was still at least physically sane.

\------------------------

Going down a 35 MPH street at 50 with a cup of hell brew in one hand and a donut in the other was the best way Pepito could start a Sunday. Who said churches weren’t good for something? Snagging refreshments from a school cafeteria used as a community not-quite-church was always a fun pick-me-up, even if he did have to wake up early to get the good shit.

No hallowed ground in a school, separation of church and state, and it was always fun to sit right up front where the priest could see his horns. Of course, he was the only one seeing them. If Pepito couldn’t put Father Elroy in the ground before the end of the decade, then he was losing his edge. 

He took a corner with nothing but his knee and was greeted by horns and screams. God he loved Sundays.

In the seat next to him, his backpack fell onto the small doggy bag that held a couple of donuts for his Squee. 

_’Todd,’_ he reminded himself. _’He’s trying to go by Todd, now.’_ It made sense. Squee was a fucking weird name, but it was hard to shake a nickname as old as their friendship. 

He popped the last of a glazed donut into his mouth, split tongue sliding around it to get off all the glaze before his sharp teeth made quick work of the fluffy pastry. Someday he was going to have to corner one of those church moms and figure out where they bought this shit; maybe even get a number or two and start thinning out el pastor Elroy’s flock.

He pulled down Squee’s — _Todd’s, maldición, Todd’s_ — street. It really was a shit hole. He had maybe, _maybe_ , two neighbors left, and Pepito was pretty damn sure they were squatters. The whole street had tanked because of one damn house lowering the property values, and now Todd was living in it.

Pepito would never voice it, but sometimes he thought Todd should have stayed in the asylum. Not because he was loco, just the opposite. He was almost too sane for someone who’d seen as much as he had. But at least in there he had company. People always around to talk to, to share with. Pepito may have been his best friend, but he was not the best listener. He tended to get sidetracked by Todd’s mouth.

 _’Could keep an eye on him too,’_ he thought bitterly. Not all possession cases were faked. Having a demon on the inside had been nice. It had let Pepito keep an eye on Todd and get in and out of the asylum whenever he wanted; the possessed giving him a summoning circle when he needed a way in. He could have popped in on his own, but there was always the chance of appearing before an orderly, and while that would have been fun, he doubted it would have gone well for Todd.

He slowed down as he neared the house, careful not to squeal the breaks. Todd — _Squ-! No wait, yeah Todd_ — was most likely still asleep. Yesterday had probably been hell for him, what with the power outage. Pepito felt bad about that, only because of the problems it caused his friend. But hey, shit happened, and he was a driving lightning rod during storms. Not his fault the lightning couldn’t keep up.

Pepito threw his backpack over one shoulder and grabbed the somewhat squashed bag of donuts. Todd’s house key popped out of his pocket with a snap of his fingers, jumping into his palm before he slid it home in the lock. It stuck a little, the shitty lock catching on the key’s teeth. Todd had made sure Pepito had a key the day he moved in. Who else was he going to give his extra to if not his best friend?

The door opened with a slight groan and closed with a screech. He listened for a moment, heard nothing, and smiled. 

_’Time to snuggle the little skin slut.’_ He started towards Squee’s room. He was either about to have a very fun morning teasing his best friend into possibly letting him into his pants, or would at least get a lazy arm thrown around his shoulders and cuddled within an inch of his life. It was most likely the second. Todd wouldn't let him fuck him, or vice versa, but sometimes he would get skin starved enough to let Pepito do other things, and Pepito was more than willing to feed that hunger. Pepito had tried to make the quick hand or blow jobs a regular thing, but Todd had shot the idea down, saying something about not wanting to fuck up the friendship and all that; the oral was already pushing it. That just made it even better when Pepito could get into his pants. Someday, Pepito was going to get Todd to slide that angelic cock of his somewhere besides down his throat. 

Pepito made it halfway to the hallway before he felt something twitch in the room. 

“¿Qué mierda?” 

A sharp pain stabbed right into his Kidney, down into his intestines, and Pepito dropped his bag.

“Who the fuck are you?” someone snapped behind him, then, to someone other than himself. “What do you mean I’m supposed to ask that then stab? Where was that advice before you bit him?”

Pepito could smell the wrong coming off of whoever was behind him. It bothered him more than the knife, because flesh wound, fuck it. A crazy in Todd’s house, though? Well, that could spell out a shit ton of bad news.

Pepito’s lips curled up into a snarl as he turned to face whoever had just decided to die that day. He found someone just slightly taller than himself, maybe by a couple of inches, though a ‘someone’ might not have been the best identifier. The guy looked like a corpse. His skin was so tight, as if there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and it gave his sharp bone structure a strange, mannequin like quality. His hair looked like it was self-cut, with his bangs hanging antenna like from his forehead; drawing attention down to the dark circles around his eyes. The eyes, dark and almost black, were pretty much the only things that held life. 

Yet he smelled wrong, all sorts of wrong, and Pepito couldn’t tell why. Whatever. He could figure it out after he removed the guy’s limbs. Right now, he was ready for some fun.

“Sólo jodiste, amigo.” 

“What?” the guy asked, though there was only a second for him to look confused before Pepito grabbed him by the neck. It felt like it would snap easily under his fist, but what fun was that? He liked playing with his victims, and seeing as this fucker had stabbed him, he’d be sure to see him again in hell. Still, the first time was always special, and breaking him while still on the earthly plane would be a hell of a lot more satisfying than doing it down below.

The knife in his side slid out of him, allowing a torrent of hot, tar like blood to flow out. The smell of burnt copper permeated the room, and he smiled. The knife came up into the meat of his bicep, slicing through muscle and tendon, not that it really mattered. His fingers stayed tight.

“And here I thought this Sunday couldn’t get better.” He raised his other arm, pointer and middle fingers out in a V, though he wasn’t throwing a peace sign. The nails lengthened.

“Let’s start with the eyes, unlock that soul of yours.” 

The prick he was holding kept stabbing upwards, the knife glancing off the bone and through more of his meat, pushing up through the other side and dripping hot blood that seared the fucker’s flesh red where it fell on him.

“Wait!” 

“Huh?” Pepito turned his head to find Todd standing in the hallway, eyes wide, small cuts all over his body, and in nothing but a pair of boxers. His eyes went from Pepito to the intruder, mouth flapping.

“Morning amig—” His jaw was forced up, and pain exploded through the underside of his jaw, both tongues as they were almost severed, and into his sinus cavity.

“Pepito!” Todd lurched forward, but Pepito had this under control. He reached up and snapped the wrist of the fucker who had just decided he needed to shut up. He had expected a scream, but instead, all he got was a grunt. The hand on the knife did not budge.

 _’El bastardo ha muerto.’_ Pepito raised his arm.

“Wait, Pepito, don’t—” 

Usually, he’d do anything for Todd, really he would, but sparring this fucker was not something he planned on doing. His hand shot forward, his fingers coated in his searing sangre, and plunged them down into the guy’s chest; into the heart. There was a sizzle as the heat from his blood hit skin. It wasn’t enough to cauterize, but he doubted it felt good, and Pepito smiled and waited for the screaming to start. The guy used his free hand to grip Pepito’s wrist and then he...sighed?

“Damn it, I liked this shirt,” he grunted as Pepito stared on in confusion. What the fuck? Wait. He wiggled his fingers around inside the guy’s chest. Something felt wrong in there, and Pepito quickly ripped his hand out, no longer wanting to touch whatever was going on inside the guy’s skin. He stumbled backward onto the couch where he continued to glare down at his chest. Pepito could see the hole where his hand had been, dark and strange, closing up like putty spreading over a table.

“N-Nny?” 

Pepito looked back over at Todd, who seemed much more worried about the guy on the couch than he should have. The fucker attack _him_ after all. Todd’s numero uno, the one with the fucking knife in his chin and blood oozing out of him, so why the fuck wasn’t he fussing over Pepito right now? The wounds may already be closing, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take some medical attention.

Both he and Todd looked on as this ‘Nny’ pulled up his shirt, looked at the closing holes, and frowned. The only blood on his body was Pepito’s. 

“Nny, are you alright?” Todd practically ran up to the guy as Pepito stood in shock. 

Nny, Nny, why did he know that name? He’d heard it before, he knew he had, and then it hit him when he saw the Z? on Todd’s bare shoulder.

Pepito yanked the knife out of his chin.

“Oh fuck no.” His voice came out sharper than he meant it to, but it got Todd and Nny’s attention. “You’re kidding me, right? The neighbor man?” He gestured at Nny with the knife.

“Roommate,” the guy grunted. 

“WHAT!” Pepito stared at Squee. “The fuck does that mean?”

“Pepito, please, calm down,” Todd said as gently as he could. “This is Johnny—”

“I prefer Nny.”

“Nny, and he—”

“Was your neighbor, yeah, I fucking remember the stories,” he spat, both figurative and literally. A glob of coagulated black blood landed near Johnny’s boot. The boot quickly skittered away from it. 

“Then why would you attack him?”

“Why did I attack him!?” Pepito shouted. “Los cuernos de mi padre, he attack _me_ , Todd.” 

“He…” Todd swallowed and looked at Johnny. “You attacked Pepito first?”

“Look at him; he looks like one of those shits at the mall that you want to send flying over the second floor banister and into a cellphone kiosk!” Johnny motioned to Pepito. “Plus I thought he was an intruder,” Johnny added before crossing his arms. “He was heading to your room. I couldn’t let him wake up the knives, or we would have been dealing with grumpy steel toddlers for the rest of the day.” 

“Knives? Waking up?” Pepito asked incredulously. 

The knife in Pepito’s hand...twitched? 

“Shut up, Z, you know what I mean,” Nny said to it.

It twitched again, and this time Pepito dropped it. Even Johnny’s damn knives felt wrong. 

“Well, that was fucking rude. You okay, Z?” Johnny was still talking to the knife.

Pepito reached up and gripped the base of his horns while he screwed his eyes shut. This whole scenario wasn’t happening. Todd’s neighbor wasn’t back, Nny had not just survived one of Pepito’s attacks, and Todd was _not_ paying more attention to this Nny fucker than Pepito. It was worse than being summoned by someone’s grandmother on accident. Yeah, she had made the best lemon cake he’d ever had, but fuck if dealing with her senile old ass hadn’t been confusing.

“Nny put his knives to sleep in my bed,” Todd replied softly, eyes downcast and cheeks just a tinge red. Pepito knew that blush; it was the one he got when he would trace his claws down Todd’s back, over his scalp; the silent ‘you’re turning me on’ blush.

“With his track record, you’re lucky he didn’t bury one in your skull, idiota!”

Johnny sneered at him. “I’d never do that with Z,” he replied. “The skull bone would damage their blade.”

“Jesucristo, seriously?! You really have gone crazy!” he snapped at Todd.

Both of Todd’s eyes suddenly slitted, his face went steely.

Fuck. It was time to backpedal.

“I think you should go, Pepito,” he said quietly.

“You’re covered in cuts, Todd. What else am I supposed to think?” Pepito seethed. “That this bastard isn’t fucking with your head? I stabbed him in the heart, and he isn’t even _bleeding_. Even demons still bleed, so what the fuck is he?”

“He’s my friend.”

“And his new roommate,” Johnny added as he looked over the hole in his shirt.

“Stop saying that!” There was a crackle in the room as a small fire started on an area rug Pepito was standing on.

“Pepito!” Todd yelped as he jumped back from the flames. Johnny watched on with mild interest.

“Ugh!” Pepito waved his hand, and the flames went out. He took a few deep breaths, trickles of smoke curling from the corners of his mouth and nose. “What is going on?” he finally managed, eyes opening to find that Todd was still giving him that sharp look. It made him think of how his mother looked at him when he didn’t do the dishes on time.

“Nny’s my new roommate,” Todd reiterated. Pepito rubbed at his ear. This wasn’t happening. Todd refused to have a roommate; he’d even shot Pepito down —not that Pepito had been serious, because fuck if he needed Todd actually knowing how he spent his evenings—, so having this knife happy hostile housing with him had to be a joke.

“You mean just until he gets his own place, right?”

“This _is_ my place,” Johnny hissed at him. “ _I_ never sold it.”

“Yeah, but possession is 9/10ths of the law, dumbass, so—”

“So I own it, and I say he stays,” Todd interjected. His voice was colder than Pepito had heard in a long while. It was the voice he had used on the asshole orderlies, the ones who thought the kids were their personal punching bags; his protector voice. 

“And what happens when he slices through your throat?” 

Todd’s cheeks flared red, and Pepito watched his hand twitch upwards before quickly coming back down. 

“He’s already sliced you?” Pepito asked, stunned. It didn’t last long before the rage seeped in.

“I-It was an accident. He—” Todd started, but the sentence died as Pepito strode forward, ignoring Johnny’s shift in stance, and lifted Todd’s chin. The stitches were fresh, the skin still red outside of the crooked bandage. It wasn’t just a regular band-aid, but a full, gauze dressing. 

“H-he thought the house was empty,” Todd started. “And I did throw the first punch; he was just defending himself.” 

“Oh like that makes a damn difference.” Pepito let go of Todd’s chin.

“You realize that I am still sitting right here, right?” Johnny stood up. “And while I _hate_ to interrupt whatever spat is going on, really, I do, because this is pretty interesting, I need to go clean off Z. They’re starting to complain about this shit you have for blood.” He took a step away from the couch, snatched the knife up from the floor, and headed towards the kitchen.

“Who the fuck is Z?” Pepito cried.

“The knife,” Todd replied in Johnny’s stead.

Pepito felt like his head might explode. “Why do you know that?”

“Because they stopped Nny from making the mistake of killing me last night.”

Pepito opened his mouth, closed it, and then let out a sound of anger between clenched teeth.

“I know you're worried,” Todd said quickly. “But Nny was there for me when I was a kid. Really, he was.”

“That was over a decade ago,” Pepito snarled. “You really think that thing in your kitchen is still him? He didn’t even bleed!”

Todd paused at that, hands fidgeting together. “He said time is broken for him, maybe—”

“He doesn’t smell right either, Todd.” He pointed towards the kitchen. “There is something rotten about him, like leche podrida.” 

“Pepito,” he sighed, and let the name hang in the air. He sounded exhausted, was covered in cuts, and just looked so damn pathetic. Pepito could smell his blood, and despite his rage, knew that if he didn’t get it cleaned up soon, he’d want to start licking the cuts closed. He’d enjoy that, but he doubted Todd would let him. Pepito’s own drying blood was starting to itch on his skin.

“Come on,” he grumbled. “Let’s go clean up while el demonio necrófago cleans his shit up.”

Todd hesitated, still kneeling. Pepito could feel the flicker of anger inside him. Shit, he was going to have to apologize.

“I’m sorry I called you crazy,” he murmured. “I was pissed, and it slipped out.”

He felt Todd’s anger almost instantly quell. Why was he so easy? So pathetic? So piadoso?

“You’ll give him a chance?”

Pepito grunted. “Never said that.” He turned back to where he had dropped his bag. “I brought you some dough— what the fuck?” The little bag was gone.

“What’s wrong.”

On the small table just before the kitchen, Pepito could see the little paper sack. It was opened.

“Those were for Todd!” he yelled at the kitchen.

Johnny’s face popped out of the kitchen; a chocolate covered cake donut with sprinkles in hand. 

“Why does he call you that, Squee?” Johnny asked Todd, completely ignoring Pepito. Pepito had the urge to see if he could break the guy's face and keep it broken.

“Because that’s his name,” Pepito seethed.

“His name’s Squee.”

“His _nick-name_ is Squee.”

“And your Pepsi, your point?” Johnny took another bite of donut.

“What did you just call me!” He took a step towards the kitchen.

“Whoa, whoa, come on, Pepito.” Todd’s hands were gentle, but stern on his shoulders. He jerked from the grasp twice before he let the hands finally stay. He allowed Todd to steer him back towards the bathroom.

“You’d better save one of those donuts for Todd!” Pepito yelled over his shoulder.

“Of course, it’s not like I don’t have any manners, unlike some assholes who waltz into people’s homes without even a knock.” 

Todd actually gave a small snort at that. It took all of Pepito’s strength not to light something on fire. At that moment, Pepito made up his mind. He was going to kill that guy. Somehow, someway, he was going to kill him. He just had to get Todd to let him first.

\------------------

Pepito’s hands were almost hot enough to burn as he went about quickly disinfecting Todd’s cuts and slapping on band-aids. They were both in the bathroom, shirtless, and covered in their own blood. Though Pepito’s was flaking off to reveal smooth skin beneath; the wounds already healed. Todd wasn’t as lucky.

“How many knives does he even have in that mattress?” Pepito grumbled. “It looks like you had a slap fight with Edward Scissorhands.”

“Um,” Todd thought for a moment while Pepito covered a nick on his shoulder blade. “Twenty Four? At least I’m pretty sure it was twenty-four. Maybe it was 23; I think that the two at the end of the bed might have been connected.”

“Twenty something knives and you’re not even a little worried that you’re going to find your fucking throat slit?”

Todd felt his face flush, and he did his best not to look at Pepito. Did he have to keep saying that? It sounded so much worse when said out loud. 

“Oh, wait, right, he’s already done that because he’s fucking loco!” Pepito’s claw scraped inside the next cut as he cleaned it and Todd hissed. The pain shot down his spine and made the muscles in his belly jump. The blush on his cheeks stayed put.

“Please don’t do that,” he muttered.

“What? Tell you you’re being a cabrón, or this?” Pepito did it again, slower, and Todd bit his lip.

“Stop it.” 

“Aw, what’s the matter? The big bad neighbor man can slice you up, but I can’t even play with you after?”

Todd gasped as Pepito pushed a finger into one of the slices on his hip, the other hand still rubbing at the one on his back. Pain did a lazy wind through him, his brain cross-firing with it.

“I said, stop!” he snapped and jerked away, moving away from where Pepito sat on the toilet. Pepito’s fingers followed him for a moment, like they wouldn’t let him go, but Todd took one large stride forward, and he was easily out of Pepito’s reach. He held the cut on his side, which was now bleeding again due to Pepito’s attention. His cock gave a pulse between his legs, half awake and wondering at the pain in his side.

He turned to glare at Pepito who simply sucked the blood off his fingers, acting as if he had done nothing wrong.

There was a series of thuds down the hall before Nny appeared in the doorway. Z was in his hand, cleaned and shining. His eyes went from Todd to Pepito and then back to Todd. 

“What did he do?” he asked, voice dangerously low and even.

“What did I do!” Pepito’s voice echoed in the small bathroom as his horns suddenly danced with blue flames. “You’re asking me that? You’re the one who put the damn knives in his bed! Look what they did!” He got up, grabbed Todd, and spun him around like a piñata. Once he was facing Nny again, Todd felt his throat click. Nny was glaring, hard, but not at Todd, not even at Pepito, but at the cuts.

“I’m going to make them eat so many fucking splinters,” Johnny growled before turning back down the hall. 

“What?” Pepito asked next to him. “Who’s going to eat splinters. What language is he even speaking?” 

They both jumped as a heavy thud echoed down the hall. 

“¿Ahora que?” 

“I-I don’t know. I think he’s mad at the knives.”

“But he’s the ones who _put_ the knives in your bed!”

Todd swallowed and then nodded. “Yeah, but…” How was he going to explain this? “When I got into bed last night, they didn’t bother me. It was like they wanted to be there, and—”

Pepito grabbed his arm and turned Todd towards him. His eyes were sharp as he searched his face.

“Sin ofender, but have you taken your meds today?”

Todd most definitely felt offended. That was the second time in less than an hour that Pepito had insinuated he was crazy, which he was not. Did he have high anxiety and a few other issues? Yes, but he wasn’t _insane_.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that.” Pepito’s voice was somewhere between somber and a snarl. “Just want to make sure you’re okay. All this stress with him around and I’m afraid you’ll pop un vaso sanguíneo.”

“I’m fine.” It came out colder than Todd was used to, but he kind of liked the way Pepito’s eyes went a little wide at the tone. They quickly turned into a glare. Down the hall was another thud.

“You don’t sound _fine_.”

Todd pulled away from Pepito and walked over to sink. He shook his pills out of the bottles, held his mouth under the faucet, and then turned to Pepito. Without breaking eye contact —which was a tad hard with the height difference— he tossed the pills into his mouth and swallowed.

“There, happy?”

Pepito crossed his arms and glared. 

Todd rubbed at his forehead. This was not what he wanted to do on his day off. What he would be doing he wasn’t sure. Maybe watch Nny explore the house, do some homework, listen to Nny tell him about where he had gone and sketch what he told him. He had _not_ planned on dealing with a pissed off Pepito. Pissed of Pepito was a dick, more so than normal, and not in the fun way that he usually was. Pepito kept staring silently.

“Whatever,” Todd grumbled as he headed towards the door.

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Pepito finally said, eyes downcast. 

“You’re just afraid he’ll send me to heaven before you can screw my soul.” 

Todd felt the shock of hurt more than saw it, the room flashing cold. Todd’s chest felt heavy for a moment. Something thick and dark wiggled in his belly, and he didn’t like it at all.

 _’Apologize’,_ he told himself. _’That was a horrible thing to say. He’s your friend.’_ He paused a few steps down the hall, debated on turning around, and probably would have if there hadn’t been another thud, this one louder than the others. A few of the pictures in the hall rattled.

“Nny?” He’d have to deal with Pepito later. 

Todd jogged to the door of his room. Nny was standing over the bed, staring at the knives.

“I know there was more than those three; he has too many bites, so fess up you rust infested fuckers, who did it?”

Todd watched as light bounced off of the knives in a strange pattern. Where was it even coming from? There didn’t seem to be an exact source. The window? The overhead light?

“Do you all want to go into the wall?” Nny snarled.

His head jerked, facing a side of the bed. “Should have known.” Nny grabs the hilt of what Todd had thought was just a rather large knife. He had been very wrong about that. It wasn’t just a knife, it was too long and curved. An X flashed as Nny took the machete and threw it hard at the opposite wall. Another thud and Todd looked in to see the blade buried almost halfway into the opposite wall with three others.

“I heard that, G.” Nny grabbed another blade, one of the odder ones that Todd had noticed, but when he unsheathed it from the bed, Todd found just how odd it was. It was like looking at a U bend of a blade, the blade curving back further than the handle. The actual curve of the blade was at the base of the U shape; notched and serrated. Todd’s throat clicked as he swallowed.

Nny walked it to the wall. “I don’t care if he startled you, you shouldn’t have bitten him.” Nny took the blade and pushed into the wood. It went with a groan, the wood splitting as Nny turned the blade expertly, working the curve into the wall until the blade was in deep and the hilt was almost parallel to the wall.

“Nny?” Todd asked gently. 

Nny spun around with a sharpness in his eyes that made Todd’s knees feel a little weak. His shirt flapped around the tear, showing his skin beneath. Todd could see his sternum and ribs through the cloth.

“I warned them that if another one bites you, they go straight into the wall. All you have to do is tell me which of the little fuckers did it and in they go.”

“It sounds like it was an accident though,” Todd murmured. 

Nny shook his head. “You moving would be an accident, but they just got ‘startled’.” Nny using finger quotes shouldn’t have been as funny as it was, but Todd found himself smiling. “If I'd been bitten every time they were truly startled then I’d have bled out years ago. Maybe. Probably. Ask Z, they’d know.”

“Oh, well…” Todd stared at the blades in the wall. “How long do they need to be, um, punished?”

“A night should be fine,” Nny replied. “Except L, they can stay and rust.”

Todd looked at the butterfly in the wall. 

“I think one more night would be enough,” Todd replied. “I’m sure they’re sorry by now. Right, L?”

 _’You’re talking to a knife. What the hell are you doing?’_ Todd asked himself.

Nny looked between Todd, and then the knife still stabbed deep in the wall. He glared at it, challenged it, and then slumped. “Fine. If Squee says you can come down, you can come down, but one more night!” He shook his finger at the knife. “After you bit me and then bit him you deserve at least 24 hours chewing on splinters.”

“If anyone deserves chewing on splinters, it’s you, cabron.” 

Todd did his best to not respond to the voice behind him. He could feel Pepito there, a warmth at his back that licked at him in a way that was just slightly uncomfortable. He was pissed. That was easy to tell, and the need to apologize hit him again. What he had said had been unfair after all. Right? 

_”You’re too nice.”_

Todd did his best not to jump. The quiet voice had come from the bed, at least that was the direction it had seemed to come from. It also sounded very familiar, like something he had heard in his sleep.

“You okay?” Pepito’s hand was warm on his shoulder.

“Y-yeah.”

“May I stab him?” Nny suddenly asked.

“What? No!” Todd found himself filling the doorway, protecting Pepito.

“Not _him_ ,” Nny scoffed. “The liar in your pillow.”

Todd felt his tongue go dry.

“What?”

“You’re not _too_ nice. You’re the perfect balance of nice,” Nny replied as he stepped away from the wall. “Shit, there isn’t enough nice left on this mudball. I’ve traveled, I know.”

“Don’t go trying to butter him up,” Pepito said from behind Todd.

“I don’t have any form of dairy product with me, and I’m a murderer, not a cannibal. Why would I rub greasy cow protein on anyone?”

Todd snorted. He couldn’t help it.

Nny blinked at him and then gave a slight smirk. “Oh, euphemisms. Been awhile since I heard one of those. Next thing I know you’ll be using sarcasm and won’t that just make my fucking day.”

“Oh, so you have some wit to you, good,” Pepito drawled, “at least I won’t be bored torturing you.”

“Pepito,” Todd sighed as Pepito pushed up next to him. The doorway was not big enough for them both, making Pepito push up tight against Todd. 

“Hey, he said it himself, he’s a murderer. He’ll be in one of my chairs someday.”

“If I could even go to hell.” Nny walked towards the bed.

“The fuck do you mean by that?”

“You’re the son of Mr. Satan, right?” Nny asked Pepito as he started sliding knives from the mattress and into his coat. Todd watched with fascination as they seemed to disappear.

“His name is Señor Diablo to shit like you.” 

Nny ignored him and kept right on talking.

“Why don’t you just ring up dear old dad and ask him. Already got the grand tour of the city scape, and can I just say, you father is fucking horrifying with pom-poms.”

“Pom-poms?” Todd asked looking at Pepito and then Nny.

“Oh, not a fan of cheerleaders, eh?” One of Pepito’s hands wrapped around Todd’s waist. “Wonder what this one would look like in Spanx and a skirt.”

“Pepito,” Todd hissed.

“What, just trying to figure out what to do to make his stay in the seventh ring more unpleasant.”

“So there are rings?” Nny asked.

More knives were disappearing into, well, somewhere. Todd couldn’t tell where; the jacket seemed to swallow them. He watched Nny slide a large one, some sort of small sword with a U carved into the space above the hilt, down his spine before bending as if nothing was actually there.

“Course there are, el tonto. Whatever you saw was just the purgatory of it all. The first stop. That’s about as far as Todd’s let me take him.”

Pepito lets out a grunt as a small knife suddenly thudded into his chest with enough force to make him stumble back.

Todd opened his mouth in surprise, words trying to come out, but Nny’s voice overcame anything he might have said.

“You took _Squee_ to _hell_?!” Nny had another knife out, similar to the one in Pepito’s sternum. Todd looked back at Pepito as the demon stood. He could barely see the blade with all the blood oozing out around it.

“What? Can’t take my friends home with me?” Pepito gave Nny a grin before coughing up and then spitting a glob of blood at him. It fell short, but Todd noticed how Nny swayed back from it. 

Nny quickly looked at Squee. “Tell me you haven’t become like the rest of the kool-aid drinking idiots on this planet and sold your soul to be rid of whatever the hell on this mud ball has tried to eat you from the inside out.”

“Wha— No! I would never do that!”

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t gotten to taste a little of it now and then.” Pepito pushed up against Todd’s back, the handle of the knife pushing into his spine as Pepito crushed them together and smeared hot blood along his lower back. A line of wet heat went up Todd’s arm as Pepito peaked around him, tongue lapping at his skin.

Todd watched the other knife flit across the room before Pepito’s head snapped back. 

“I’m going to cut your cancerous little ass out of this universe and flush it with the rest of the world's excrement!” Nny yelled as he came forwards, a large cleaver in his hand. Where had he even pulled that?

“Ooooh, bring it. See if we can’t feed the blood lust in here.”

“For fuck sake Pepito, shut up!” Todd snarled as Nny stalked forwards. Pepito raised his hands in mock surrender before pulling the two knives out of his body. Thick blood ran down his forehead, nose, and chin. 

“And Nny, please,” Todd started as he took a step towards him. Nny went to veer around him, eyes locked on Pepito. “Nny, no, you can’t kill him, he won’t die, so—”

“I can make him hurt,” Nny snarled.

“Nny,” Todd grabbed the hand with the cleaver. 

Z appeared, quick as could be, but whistled past Todd’s ear instead of actually hitting his body. Todd reacted quickly in kind, other hand grabbing Nny’s wrist.

“Calm, down,” Todd bit out as Nny tried to fight against him.

“There is a demon in my house, and you want me to calm down?” 

_”Our_ house, Nny,” Todd grunted as he moved Nny’s arms around, forcing them both into a bend with Nny’s fists level with his own ears.

“He’s not welcome here,” Nny spit.

“Nny.” Todd made a jerking motion that seemed to throw Nny off guard. It made them stumble slightly, Todd spinning them so Nny couldn’t see Pepito, and felt a solid thud in his bones as he pushed Nny up against the wall next to the door. The slightly startled, and stunned, look that crossed Nny’s face made Todd’s stomach flip. They were so close, the knives Nny held mere inches from his body, and it took a hell of a lot of focus for Todd to keep from doing something stupid.

“Pepito’s my friend,” he said as evenly as he could, dropping the pressure on Nny’s wrists but keeping them up. “He’s been there for me while you’ve been gone. Saved me more times than I can count.”

“Kept him company on cold nights,” Pepito added as he stood in the doorway, playing with the two knives he had pulled out of himself.

Todd glared at him, but Pepito showed no remorse.

 _”Petty bastard.”_ Todd ignored the soft voice behind him. He didn't hear it; wouldn't hear it.

“Well now I have to agree with the damn pillow,” Nny grumbled. 

Todd swallowed but kept letting up on the pressure. “I’m going to let go now, okay. Please don’t do anything to him. He’ll try and bait you, but—”

“I’ll behave if he does,” Nny interrupted.

“No es probable,” Pepito grumbled. 

Todd took a steadying breath, hands still holding up Nny’s wrists. He felt Nny tug a bit, testing, but Nny didn’t fight him.

“Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll leave the little hellspawn alone, but only if we can get me a bed. I don’t want any of the knives biting you again.”

Todd sighed in relief and let his wrists go. “Alright, we can do that.”

“Just take that one,” Pepito said. “I can have Todd sleep with me.” 

Nny bared his teeth at Pepito. 

“Pepito, could you go in the kitchen please?” Todd asked gently.

Pepito glared. “You know what, I’ll just go,” he bit out. “I can see I’m not wanted here. But hey, if he kills you in your sleep don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he added as he stomped away. A heavy heat went with him.

“The hell kind of sharpened stick is shoved up his ass?” Nny asked.

Todd sighed. “One I put there. I’ll be right back.” If not for his long legs, Todd wouldn’t have gotten to Pepito before he made it to the front door. 

“Pepito,” he said as the antichrist grabbed the doorknob.

“What, you want me to stick around now and watch you eye fuck him?”

Todd jolted back. “What?”

Pepito looked over his shoulder and sneered. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Put some pretty knives in front of you, and you start thinking with your dick.”

Todd stared at him in shock before anger bubbled in his belly. 

“Seriously? I came out here to apologize, dickhead.” 

“Oooh, what a great one too. Almost makes me want to fall to my knees and thank god for such sweet words.” He jerked the door open. Todd pushed the door closed.

“Would you talk to me?”

“Think I’ve already said my piece.” Pepito jerked on the door again, but Todd kept it shut. 

“Do you want me to burn you?” Pepito hissed as he whirled around, drawing up as high as he could. Heat radiated off of him, making Todd break out into a sweat as he bent over his short friend.

“If you need to, then yes, because I don’t want you leaving mad.”

Pepito gave a mean grin. “And you’d let me, just like that? Just like you let that fucker in your bedroom cut you?” His hand came up and hovered over Todd’s chest. He could feel the heat, almost blistering, from Pepito’s palm.

“I didn’t let him, Pepito. You’re not even letting me tell you what happened.” He kept a hand on the door, body blocking Pepito in, and did his best to keep his brain on track. The heat was not helping his body follow his brain. He was still only in his boxers, after all, and he could feel every wave of heat that came off of Pepito like the sun’s rays.

“But you’re my best friend,” Todd added. “If it’s what you need, then yes, I’d let you burn me.” He did his best to give a little smile. “Not like it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Todd’s pectoral jumped just slightly as one of Pepito’s fingers tapped him. It wasn’t enough to do more than slightly redden the skin. It wouldn’t burn, wouldn’t blister, just a small spot similar to sunburn. Todd stayed put.

“Seriously.” Pepito shook his head. “You’re going to get yourself killed someday with shit like this.”

“That’s why I’ve got you, though.” Todd gently nudged Pepito’s shoulder, using his knuckles and did his best not to let Pepito's skin burn him. Already he could feel Pepito’s heat dropping. 

“Dios tu un idiota, confiar tu vida a un demonio.”

“He’s not trusting you with anything.”

Todd jumped as he turned to find Nny. Pepito looked out from under his arm.

“¿Tu hablas español?”

“Well I understand it at least,” Nny replied as he came forward. “Now give back V and W.” He held out his hand. 

Todd saw the smile before Pepito could move, and grabbed his friend's shoulder before he could slam the knives down into Nny’s palm. 

“Pepito,” he murmured gently. Pepito looked up at him with a pout before dropping the bloody knives into Todd’s palm. He realized they were throwing knives, the one with a V in its blade silver with black highlights, and the W black with silver.

“Happy?” Pepito grumbled.

“Yes, thank you.” Todd held the knives out to Nny, who took them gingerly by the cleanest places on their hilts and started to look them over. 

“Pepsi’s shit-for-blood takes forever to get off,” he grumbled.

Todd had to physically push Pepito back into the door to stop him from moving forward, effectively pinning Pepito in place.

“Why couldn’t you have done this before he showed up?” Pepito licked his lips at Todd and slid a leg between Todd’s thighs. One of his fingers came to play with a still open cut on Todd’s chest.

“Pepito,” he said with a slight hiss.

“Un consejo,” Pepito called out to Nny as he slid his leg up Todd’s thigh. Todd quickly stepped back, his body cross firing at the sensations. “Todd probablemente te chuparía si lo amenazas con un cuchillo.”

“What?” Todd had heard his name, but Pepito had spoken too fast for him to catch what he had said.

“See ya early tomorrow,” Pepito added with a hard smile as he jerked the door open. “Still need that homework.”

Pepito slammed the door shut behind him, leaving a confused Todd standing in front of it.

“What did Pepito say?” he asked as he turned around.

He found Nny looking at him with a quirked brow. His eyes went to the cut in his side, which was gently oozing blood, Todd’s crotch, and then his face. Heat shot to Todd’s cheeks as he realized that Nny had just given him a once over.

“You really have grown up,” Nny replied before turning away and heading to the kitchen. Todd followed Nny with his eyes.

“Nny, what did Pepito say?” he asked again as Nny disappeared into the kitchen. The only sound that followed was that of water and mild swearing as Nny cleaned his knives.


	4. Car Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies on the wait for the chapter. I've had a lot happen recently, including starting a new job and losing a close family member. I hope to return to regular updates of ALL my stories here soon; both commissioned and non-commissioned.
> 
> Thank you for waiting! I hope you enjoy.

“So there’s an...arm under there?” Squee stared at the car like it was in flames. It wasn’t, though, just un-moveable. There was something stuck in the front axle that would most likely cause irreversible damage if Johnny left it there and tried to drive. He knew, it had happened before, and it was fucking exspensive too. Thankfully, the mechanic who had fixed it last time was a lecherous piece of shit who did things to women that should have gotten his balls lopped off at age six. 

His payment had been A sitting in the center of his head, the survival axe splitting his skull and spilling his brains beneath the hydraulics lift. All it took was the push of a button to make it look like an accident; hydraulics gone haywire.

“Not sure, could be his pelvis,” Johnny replied as he looked underneath. The car was parked behind the gas station, blood still on the hood, though no one cared to see it. No one ever really seemed to care about what Johnny did. It was nice that way. No need to deal with cops; unless, of course, they were the pigs that needed slaughtering. 

Squee stared at the car in a way that Johnny found interesting. He didn’t seem disgusted, more contemplative, and that was good. He wasn’t sure having a squeamish roommate would work. He did like bringing his work home with him, after all.

“Do I need to get the jack out of the car, or…” Squee looked at Johnny who shrugged.

“I’m not sure. You’re the one with medical experience. Would the leverage help release the bone mass or should we just hook R under there and tug?”

“R?”

Johnny pulled out R, a sickle who was more interested in the long grass off behind the gas-station than the situation before them.

“Focus,” Johnny muttered at R before showing them to Squee. “They could reach it, right?”

“Um…” Squee got down on all fours, head tilted so he could look under the car. Johnny founds himself checking Squee’s side. There was no blood anywhere, not after he had finished patching him up. Squee had insisted on clothing before the bandaging, even though Johnny told him he didn't mind. He’d seen bodies in multiple states of undress; a pair of boxers wasn’t the least he’d seen someone in. Boundaries were a thing though, right? Z had said they were, so he hadn’t pushed the issue.

“I think we can reach it,” Squee said finally, his head somewhat under the front bumper. 

R was looking at Squee’s hair. It looked long. In fact, Johnny’s did too.

“What did I say about focusing?”

“Huh?” Squee looked up at him. 

“Nothing.” He flipped R so he was holding the curved blade between his fingertips and held R out to Squee. “You have longer arms. See if you can fish the fucker out.”

Squee looked up at him, eyes wide and moonlike, so similar to when he was younger. Then they closed a bit, the shape reminding Johnny that young Squee was gone, and he was stuck with this tall man. If Squee had been any thinner, had less muscle, he might have considered him a noodle-boy, but a noodle-boy Squee was not. Maybe a rigatoni. 

“O-Okay.” Squee took R tentatively, his arm not even dropping with R’s weight when Johnny let go. He laid down on the asphalt and reached beneath the car. There were a few clanging sounds, and Johnny watched Squee as he stared under the chassis in deep concentration.

“Almost, have, it,” he grunted before giving a harsh jerk. There was a slight tearing sound before a hunk of meat came out from under the car. 

“Ah, lovely!” Johnny exclaimed as what was most likely a thigh tore out. “Is that all of it? Or are his hips still under there? I can’t remember for sure what was left of him when I shoved him in the dumpster.” 

Squee looked a little pale as he stared down at the thigh. There was still jean fabric in places; R hooked underneath some of it and a large amount of meat. Squee pulled gently, moving the thigh away from the car. Johnny was surprised at how well Squee was at manipulating the blade under the shredded cloth. 

“L-little left,” Squee replied, his eyes huge as he tried to get back under the car. He gave a grunt as he laid on his back and shimmied up underneath. As he went, his shirt pulled up, exposing sharp hip bones. Johnny had little interest in them, but that didn’t mean much. F twitched in its sheath and began whispering with B.

“What are you two muttering about,” Johnny grumbled under his breath. 

F gave a shudder. There was something about the hip bones that made it want to be put to use. They were so pretty under the skin, and the boning knife had a need to show them to the world. B added that they could pull the skin back, gently of course, just so the tips would be exposed. The two promised not to do anything permanent. They just wanted to play with him, and if Pepeito had been telling the truth, then-

Johnny smacked the boning and fillet knives, shutting them up. 

“No.” His voice was stern.

“Did you say something?” Squee called, voice thin.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Johnny replied as he felt the knives whimper. They hadn’t meant anything by it.

“Well, I’ve almost-” There was a cracking sound and Squee quickly scuttled backward out from under the car. Flecs of coagulated blood dotted his face as he stared wide-eyed at the sky.

“Did you get it?”

Squee nodded as he pulled R out, who was wrapped inside of a pelvis. Johnny could see where the bone had broken while Squee was pulling it out.

“Great. Let me see if this piece of shit will still run and then we can go get a mattress for the knives.”

“Okay.” Squee’s voice sounded far away.

“Oh, and put that in the dumpster with the rest of him, would you?” Johnny walked past him towards the car door. Squee held the body part at arms length, R still looped in the carnage. Johnny let him deal with the rest of the meat while he started the car. The engine gave a sputter before roaring to life, and when he went into reverse, he heard only a slight thudding before whatever was left fell out. From inside the car, Johnny figured it was the ball socket for the hip.

_Would you help him?_ Z poked him inside the coat. 

“He’s doing fine?”

_He’s shaking._

Johnny looked up. Squee had the thigh now, the blade under the jeans, and R was trembling slightly as Squee carefully made his way to the opened dumpster. Johnny frowned. 

“I thought he would be okay with that after all the shit he’s seen.”

_Being used to it and being okay with it are two different things._

Fuck. Johnny hated it when Z was right.

Johnny got out of the car, slipped a glove on from one of his pockets, and grabbed the ball socket that lay on the ground, scraps of meat and ligament still holding tight. He walked quickly over to the dumpster and tossed it in. Squee jumped as it thudded against the metal.

“He was a dick.” Johnny stared down at the top half of the body in the dumpster, the face shoved down deep in the garbage. “Kept harassing the woman behind the counter while she was getting me my freezie. Real shit stain on the underpants of life. So I bleached him out. Ran him over, and then A, P, and Q helped me get the upper half of him in here. Just couldn’t reach what was stuck under there, so thank you for that.” He motioned to what Squee had dangling off of R.

Squee nodded slightly. “Okay. But, um...aren’t you worried about the police?” He raised R over the dumpster, and with a twist, had the thigh fall into the metal bin.

Johnny gave a laugh. “Those idiots wouldn’t be able to find a needle in a sewing factory. They’d keep picking up toothpicks and jabbing them into the eyes of all the babies.”

“Why are there babies in a sewing factory?” Squee asked as Johnny turned his glove inside out and put it back in his pocket. There wasn’t too much blood on it. It could wait to be cleaned as long as the blood was on the inside. 

“Why not?” Johnny replied as he headed to the car. “Oh, and would you mind using R on the grass over there; get that idiots blood off them.”

Squee nodded and hurriedly made his way to the grass. Johnny followed slower behind him, listening to R hum as Squee went to wipe them off. He was surprised to see Squee grab a clump of the long grass in his palm and then pull R through it, sheering the stalks away before doing it again and again. Even from here, Johnny could hear R singing happily as they sheared through the plant life. 

_We may have found R a gardener._

“Wouldn’t get your hopes up, Z.”

_But I think R is._

Z was right about that. R was a happy flash of silver in the sun as Squee came back. There were still rusty streaks over R’s face, but they were muted in comparison to the rest of the blade.

“I think we’ll need a rag for the, uh–”

“Shit stains.”

R’s humming came to a halt and flipped about so that its hook was facing away from Johnny. Squee seemed surprised by the movement.

“I-I didn’t do—"

“Oh come on, you can’t call that piece of human excrement actual meat,” Johnny cut in, his focus on R.

R didn’t respond.

“Maybe you should hang on to them,” Johnny grumbled to Squee as he headed to the driver side door. “Little shit is being a moody fuck. Whistling one second and wanting me dead the next.”

“R wants you dead?”

Johnny looked down at R, who despite Squee’s tight grip, was trying to sag.

“No, they just–” Johnny stopped and stared over the hood of the car. Squee was tall enough that he could still easily see R; he could tell he had hurt the blade by suggesting R had disowned Johnny. “I’m an asshole, just get in the fucking car before the machine decides to crap itself and we have to get one of those pretentious tow trucks that are so damn smug.”

Squee looked like he wanted to ask something about that but quickly shut his mouth. As soon as Johnny climbed into his car, Squee was there, buckling his seatbelt. 

“Those are good for strangling,” Johnny said offhandedly as he turned the key and threw it into gear. The engine hummed; an old tune he knew well, even if he did sometimes get sick of the song.

“What are?”

Johnny looked at the belt tugging tight across Squee’s chest. 

“Oh…”

“Line it with razor wire and you can do some fun shit with seatbelts.”

Squee looked a tad feverish.

“You okay?”

Squee nodded quickly, R in his lap, and quickly pointed his eyes towards to the road. It took Johnny a second to realize that some of the freckles on his face weren’t actually freckles. He hit the break.

“Here,” Johnny said as he popped up the center console. He reached into the package of half depleted wet wipes. “You got some shit oh on your cheeks.” With a quick hand, he pulled one out, and with the same detached manner of a nurse at the end of sixteen-hour shift, cleaned Squee’s face and neck.

“There,” he said, tossing it into the trash bag he kept behind his passenger’s chair. “Don’t want you catching anything communicable.”

“T-thanks,” Squee squeaked, cheeks blazing. Maybe Johnny had scrubbed a little too hard. He quickly turned away and focussed on the road ahead, foot coming off of the break.

“We want to go get furniture, right?” Squee asked. 

“That’s the plan.”

“Okay, then turn right out of here.”

Johnny noted that Squee barely looked at him the rest of the way, though R did tell him that Squee had very warm hands; nice warm hands that liked to pet his hilt. It was hell getting R back into the coat, but Squee said R couldn’t come into the store otherwise, so R had to suck it up.

The second-hand store was shit, to be honest. They had an abysmal selection of furniture, barely any at all, and a lot of it was being used to hold up random nicknacks, shoes, and had clothing hanging off of it. In the far back corner, they found a few mattresses, pushed flat up against the wall to save space. 

Johnny looked them over. Two were twins and one was a full. He walked up to each and shoved his hand against them. One was much too soft. It would shred within weeks. The full had a sag in the middle, at least he thought so. Hard to tell with it sideways. It was firm, though, which was good.

The last twin barely had any give under his hand. It felt like someone had compressed all of the springs in it until it had become a rock of metal.

“This one.” He tapped it, looking at the sign above all three of them. ‘All Mattresses come with box spring. Bedbug free guarantee.’

“Are you sure?” Squee pushed against the mattress as well and frowned a little.

“It’ll be fine,” Johnny replied as he looked over the twin mattress. “Not like I’ll be the one sleeping in it. The knives just need a place to stuff their steel for the night.”

He turned to find Squee looking a tad pink as he stared at the mattress.

“But what if you want to lay down? Wouldn't a bigger bed be better? It’s not that much more.” Squee looked over the price tag. There was barely a thirty dollar difference between the two, and both were under a hundred. 

“There’s always the couch.”

“But that’s not in your room.”

“It’s in my house,” Johnny snapped back.

“Our, house,” Squee corrected softly. His cheeks still looked a tad pink, but he didn’t look away from Johnny as he made the statement. Johnny was never going to get used to the ‘our’ bullshit.

“So are you fucking telling me I can’t lay out on _our_ couch?” Z shifted inside his coat, ready to appear. 

“Of course not,” Squee sighed. “I’m just saying you might want something you can lay down on with the knives in your own private area. You know, in case we have company or something and they need the couch.”

Johnny blinked. Huh. Well, that just made a little too much sense now. Not that he laid down often, he preferred to be out and about, but he had laid out before and just stared at the ceiling, and having a space to do it in that was just his would be nice. It had been nice when the house had just been his after all; sleep or no sleep. 

“Alright, the full then.” He turned from the mattress and started to head to the front of the store.

“Don’t you want a desk or a set of drawers?” Squee asked after him.

Oh, yeah, those would be good. He’d need somewhere to draw Happy Noodle Boy and keep his few positions. Without a word, Johnny turned down a cramped aisle and towards a small set of drawers in cracked wood. They were holding up a set of shitty looking plates.

“This one.” He tapped it.

“Are you...sure?” Squee was looking it over, especially at the cracks.

“This way the knives will already have a time out corner.”

Squee stared at the wood a moment longer but gave a nod. “Okay. Anything else?”

“Well…” Less than ten minutes later and they had a small collection of furniture tags. Besides the bed and desk, Johnny had also picked out a small chest of drawers, a side table that was more or less still useable, a couple of mismatched lamps, a desk chair, and some boots that he could salvage the leather from and fix up a few of his own garments. They also had some brightly colored laces, as if someone had taken a tie-dyed shirt and made it into strips. Johnny kind of liked the laces. Maybe he would use them somewhere in the room, or if they were durable enough, he would keep them in his pocket; help someone die with a smile.

He set down the boots and one of the lamps while Squee added the tags and other lamp.

“This all?” The guy behind the counter was grinning much too wide, it made Johnny’s eye twitch. People in customer service didn’t smile, their souls left their bodies during the day to hibernate somewhere else so that they could survive. Unless…

“Do you know about the tiddlywinks?”

The smile twitched down. “Huh? Um...you mean that old game?”

“Yes, where did it come from?”

The clerk became even more confused. “I—I don’t know.” He gave a shrug. “Why? Are you looking for a set or something? Because I really don’t think we—” 

“Never mind, you passed.”

“Um...okay.” The cashier tried to bring his smile back, but it was lacking. Johnny felt more at ease.

With a sideways glance, the clerk picked up the tags and began to manually type in the amount onto an old computer. “Are you interested in delivery?” he asked as he looked over the one for the mattress set.

“For the furniture if possible,” Squee replied. “How much extra is it?”

“Depends on how far out you are, to be honest.” 

“Less than ten miles,” Squee supplies.

“Fifty then.” He kept typing up the tags.

“Oh.”

“Fifty?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah. Gotta pay for someone to come in for an extra shift and for the gas. If you were over ten it would be a hundred and—” The cashier stopped when he grabbed the boots and plucked at a shoelace. “Woah, these are pretty wacky looking.”

The movement came as naturally as breathing. Hand in the coat, blade out of its sheath, blade towards the body, and—

“Nny!” 

Z hovered before the man’s eyeball, the tip reflecting in the wide pupil as Johnny’s hand shook.

_What are you doing!?_

“You heard him!” Johnny snapped at the blade as he tried to push forward.

“W-whoa man.” The cashier raised his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

_He didn’t do anything wrong!_

“I fucking hate that word!” Johnny snarled while he tried to force his hand forward with the other. Z refused, telling him that this was absolutely ridiculous. The man had called the laces wacky. He wasn’t being a dick, he was stating a fact because they were. 

Johnny wiped the knife away from the man to glare at its blade. “Don’t you start to.” 

“Nny, hey.” A gentle hand settled on his shoulder, startling him. Z stopped Johnny’s assault before it drew blood, hovering over Squee’s cheek. “Why don’t you go sit in the car,” Squee said gently. His eyes barely flicked to Z, the dark irises more intent on Johnny’s face.

“But he—”

“Is just doing his job, Nny.” Squee was managing to stay very calm despite Z’s proximity. 

“Fine,” Johnny huffed as he jabbed Z back into his coat. He shoved his hand into another pocket, threw a few crumpled bills onto the counter, —how much he was unsure, but there were at least a couple of tens in there he hoped— picked up the lamp he had been carrying, and stomped out of the building.

“Jesus, is he always like that?” he heard just before the door closed.

_Don’t,_ Z warned.

“Don’t what!? You won’t let me do a ‘what’ even if I wanted!” The car door jerked open with a squeak of pain before Johnny slammed it shut behind him, and put the lamp and shoes in the back seat. 

Z hummed in annoyance as Johnny then shoved his seat back as far as it would go and threw his feet up on the dash. 

“Whoever created that word better have died in some sort of horrid trolley accident with a razorblade delivery truck.” 

Z sighed in their pocket as Johnny shifted around in the leather, attempting to find a generally comfortable position as he waited for Squee.

“I mean really? Where would anyone get such an infuriating word? ‘Whacky’. It isn’t whimsical or silly, it has the work ‘whack’ in it! You ‘whack’ someone with a bat, or a hammer, hell they use ‘whack’ as a euphemism for kill. So tell me, Z, why the fuck is it considered some sort of ridiculous descriptive!”

_Yeah, why?_ came from his hip pocket.

“Shut up, Y!” 

Johnny got a jab from inside Z’s sheath. 

“The fuck was that—” he paused as he felt Y wilt in his pocket. Pressing his fists to his temples, Johnny gritted out in the nicest, most even voice he could muster, “I don’t know, Y, that’s why I was asking.”

_Oh._

Johnny whirled as the back door opened and he found Squee unloading the other lamp. 

“Do you have any rope?” he asked as he set it down gently.

“Why?” Johnny asked at the same moment as Y.

“Because either we try and tie your mattress to the roof or you don’t have a bed for another few days.” Squee gives him a disheartened look. “The van is in the shop.”

“Oh for fuck sake.” Johnny kicked the car door open, getting another aching groan from the old hinges, and started to stomp toward the furniture store. He watched as the clerk stumbled back from the windows, and grinned.

“Nny! Nny, wait!” Squee grabbed his elbow, and this time Johnny didn’t go for a knife. It was hard, though, because he very much felt like stabbing something. “It’s not his fault. I told him you were having a really bad day and talked him out of calling the cops, so please don’t go hurting him. He’s just trying to do his job.”

“I’m not going to hurt him, Squee.” Johnny tugged his arm back. “I’m just going to go grab the damn mattress. I’ve got enough rope to tie a fat man to a set of train tracks, getting that shit on the car should be easy.”

“O-oh. So you do carry rope.” Squee’s cheeks were doing that red thing again.

“What kind of person doesn’t carry rope these days? There are so many fucking crazies running around it would be idiotic not to have some form of restraint ready.” Johnny headed back into the store, the clerk standing well behind the counter with a phone at the ready. 

Johnny paid him little mind as he grabbed the mattress and began to drag it towards the door. 

Squee was still outside, face red as sunset, and staring at him with his moonlike eyes again. It took a moment before he moved back towards the shop.

“I didn’t kill him,” he called as Squee pushed the door open. “Now help me with this. It’s awkward.”

Squee didn’t respond, just rushed to help grab the mattress as he gave the cashier an apologetic look.

Johnny did his best not to notice how red he stayed as Johnny tied the mattress to the roof of his car, fingers tying expert knots. By the time he was done, Squee had retreated into the car.

“Do you know where the word ‘wacky’ comes from?” he asked as he got in; Squee was staring down at his hands that were fisted in his lap. 

“Huh?” His head jerked up. “Oh,” Squee thought a minute as Johnny began to pull out of the parking lot. “I think it has to do with being hit in the head, maybe? Like, you act crazy because you were wacked too many times? I think that’s what it means, but I could be wrong.”

Johnny stopped the car suddenly and looked right at Squee. “Holy shit,” he mumbled. “Maybe I am wacky.”

Y laughed in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Dictionary.com : "wacky. "crazy, eccentric," 1935, variant of whacky (n.) "fool," late 1800s British slang, probably ultimately from whack "a blow, stroke," from the notion of being whacked on the head one too many times."
> 
> Next chapter is almost done. I have the rough finished, and let me tell you, there is some fun NSFW stuff going on in that one. *winks*


	5. Driven to the Hilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should...should hilt fucking be a tag or does that work with knife play???
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this chapter that for sure gives this story an E rating.
> 
> Also, heads up, Ao3 kinda messed up my formatting, so if something looks wonky, sorry about that! I did my best to catch it all.

The mattress had looked awfully lonely in Nny’s room once they had gotten it inside. The singular item of furniture took up barely any space at all, though Nny didn’t seem to notice. He busied himself setting the lamp next to it on the floor, the other lamp in the corner —where he said the desk would go—, and threw the small suitcase that had been in the trunk of his car into the closet. 

“I’m going to go get a freezie; you want anything?” Nny had asked as soon as the few items were squared away.

“Oh, uh, I’ll have one too, if that’s okay.” Nny did owe Todd, after all, the bills he had strewn over the counter only covering three-quarters of the bill. Not that Squee minded; at least, not too much.

“Wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t,” Nny had replied before leaving abruptly. 

Todd found himself standing alone in the living room, brain going blank as he tried to straighten out the happenings of the day.

 _’He assaulted the clerk is what happened.’_ Todd shook his head. No, he had scared the clerk, only scared him. No blood had been drawn, and no cops had been called. Asalt meant damage, and none was done. Okay, so maybe some mental damage had been done, but nothing permanent. 

_”You’re too fucking trusting.”_ It seemed to float out from his bedroom. Todd quickly headed in the opposite direction. He still had homework to work on, not that he could focus. Still, Todd sat himself at the small table in the eating area outside the kitchen, pulled out his homework, and started going through it. 

His human-body homework was some of the more enjoyable content. He found it interesting how it matched up with what he had learned about breaking down different animals into their cuts of meat. Muscles, tendons, almost all of them could be translated from animal to animal and animal to human; a way everything was connected. It made Todd feel better to think that sometimes the things out there just couldn’t differentiate about what kind of meat they were getting.

More often it was horrifying.

Still, as enjoyable as it was, the words he read and diagrams he filled out seemed more to jump around than anything else. 

“You don’t need to shower anytime soon, do you?” 

Todd just about fell out of his chair; hand gripped tight around a pencil as he stood, point primed and ready to be used as some form of weapon. 

Nny stared at him with a raised eyebrow, sucking on a purple freezie as he placed a blue one on the table. It was the only thing not splattered in some form of gore.

“N-no,” Todd replied as he stared wide-eyed. 

“Good, need this molester off me.” Nny turned on his heel and walked away, the faintest sound of something sticky following. Todd looked at the floor and saw the slight spots of brownish rust following after Nny.

“Oh my god,” he breathed.

_”Told ya, kid.”_

Todd shook his head and headed through the kitchen to the basement. Whatever was on the floor, he wanted it cleaned up, immediately. He went down the U bend of a staircase into the small room that had a trapdoor in the floor and a regular door in the wall. 

He had only tried to open the doors once. Once had been enough. When he touched them all he could think was that they weren’t _right_. That, and the knob had refused to turn, and the latch to the trapdoor would not raise.

The mop was leaned against the shitty old shelves pushed up against the wall, the bucket and the harsher cleaning chemicals setup along the shelves. He grabbed some bleach, some comet, the mop, a scrub brush that had probably been around for over a century, and the bucket.

With shaking hands, he measured out bleach into the bucket along with soap and hot water, then mixed it together with the mop. By the time he was in the living room, the mop running —and catching— over the uneven floor, Nny appeared.

“Oh, thank you,” he said as he paused in the room, head cocked and considering Todd. He was holding all of the clothing from before, wrapped in what looked to be some of Todd’s plastic wrap. He was no longer wearing his jacket, instead dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt that Todd believed he remembered from when he was a child. His boots no longer stuck to the floor when he walked. With his jacket was missing, Todd could see a few of the knives’ hilts on his person.

“D-didn’t want it to stain.” 

“Yeah, I guess those have faded, huh.” Nny looked at the floor before shrugging and walking past.

Todd watched Nny disappear into the kitchen. Where was—

“Wait!” He dropped the mop, mid-scrub, and quickly followed Nny down into the basement. He had just thrown up the top of the washer when Todd hit the bottom step.

“Don’t!”

Nny paused, his clothing being held over the washer’s opening, gloved hands keeping it well at arm’s length. He looked like he was about to rip the plastic away and spill the clothing like some sort of perverted party popper.

“What?” He looked at Todd with a raised brow.

“I-it doesn’t work right.”

“Huh?”

“It turns things colors,” Todd replied. _’Oh god, how are we going to wash that out at the laundromat? Someone will notice.’_

“Colors, like...wait.” Nny tore the plastic and dropped the clothing in, still wrapped, before grabbing the machine and tugging it away from the wall. “Help me here,” he said after a few moments of harsh pulling, the metal of the washer dragging over the concrete. 

Todd went timidly, grabbing the machine and pulling it out almost easily. It was heavy, after all, but dragging it wasn’t hard. He threw sides of beef around as if they were Cornish hens; the washer wasn’t a problem.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he watched Nny pry open the back.

“I left something in here,” Nny replied. 

Todd’s heart jumped into his throat. What had he left that would turn things that awful, rusty color?

“Ah, there.” There was an odd wrenching sound before Nny pulled out a box of...something. The cardboard was almost falling apart in his hand, and Nny wrinkled his nose at it. “Least they didn’t get to it,” he grumbled.

“Get to what?” Todd watched as Nny walked over to the trash bin near the basement stairs. 

“Chocolate covered cherries,” he replied as he dropped the box in the bin. “I indulged before I left, but I kept having food disappear. I figured the little bastards who were stealing from me wouldn’t look there. I was right.”

“So the stains were from...chocolate?”

“And some form or red dye used in the grenadine. Probably forty. Wonder how they managed to land on forty. There had to be more iterations than that, or maybe less. Can you name a dye a different number than it’s testing number?” 

Todd let out an ‘uuhh’ before Nny sighed deeply. “Damn it; I liked that brand. Oh well.” He turned back to the washer.

“Maybe you should run it once without the clothes,” Todd interjected, stopping Nny from hitting any buttons. “Get rid of any leftover chocolate.”

“I always knew you were a smart kid, Squee.” Nny reached back into the opening and pulled out the clothes, slapping them down on the dryer. Todd could see flecks of red stick to the yellowed metal.

“Thanks,” he murmured gently.

Nny turned on the washer, sprinkled in some old soap flakes from a nearby shelf, and turned with a smile. “It’s good to be home,” he said as he pulled off his gloves, setting them neatly next to the pile of soiled clothing. 

Todd felt a smile flicker over his mouth and a gentle warmth in his chest. He was the reason Nny could say that. _Him_.

“Yeah?”

Nny nodded with a grin before turning towards the back of the basement. “Would you leave me for a while?” he asked as he looked around. “I want to see what was left behind.” He started to head for the door in the far wall. His hand alighted on the knob and Todd watched wide-eyed as it turned smoothly beneath his palm.

“S-sure.” Todd quickly turned away and headed for the stairs. The feeling of dread he had always felt from the doors pushed at his back as the scream of old hinges filled his ears.

“Ah, hello there,” he heard behind him. “I was hoping they’d leave you behind. Let’s see who else is still here.”

Todd closed the door to the basement. The kitchen was quiet, the weather outside still, albeit gloomy. Beneath him, something made a horrible wrenching nose that sent him skittering into the front room.

 _”He everything you ever wanted?”_ floated out of the hall.

“Shut up Shmee,” Todd said before he could stop himself. He picked up the mop and got back to work. If anything else was said while he cleaned and finished his homework, Todd ignored it. 

\--------------------------------

Todd listened to the clink of dishes in the kitchen and felt like the world might be trying to swallow him. He had made a simple dinner, just some of the food that had been given to him by his boss; extra cuts of meat that were going gray and needed to be used, slightly wilted vegetables, and rice. No one would ever know how many rice packets, bags, and boxes got damaged during transportation, but Todd had a good idea. It was the main way he stayed fed. 

Nny had eaten an entire bowl of the stir-fry, stood, and started doing dishes. No prompting, no asking, just grabbed Todd’s not quite finished bowl —though he wasn’t really hungry anymore, so it wasn’t a big deal— and went into the kitchen. 

“Th-thanks!” he called from the table, unsure of what to do.

“You did the floors, I can do this,” Nny called back. “That’s a part of cohabitation, right? Trading off on cleaning?”

Todd felt a crazy little laugh push into his throat.

“Yeah.” Somehow, he kept the laughter out of the word. 

“Also, going to be cleaning out the basement tonight. It’s a fucking mess down there. Whoever it was that bought this house left more than it sounded like.” The water shut off and Nny appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by the kitchen light. His jacket hung around him, fresh and shiny. “So if you hear thumping under your room, it’s just me fixing the wracks.”

“O-okay. Do you…” Todd paused for a moment. “Do you need any help?”

Nny cocked his head and squinted his eyes at him. “No,” he said finally, just before Todd felt like he may physically start squirming. “You’ve helped me with enough shit today, and I prefer working down there alone. Keeps my brain and hands busy; makes it harder to become someone else’s playground.”

“Huh?”

“You know, how the voices settle in and use your nose as a slide and ears as swings. I hate it when they pull on my lobes.” Nny rubbed absently at his ear. 

“Yeah,” Todd replied automatically, even though he had no idea what Nny was talking about. 

“Then I’ll see you in the morning.” Nny turned to head to the basement. “Oh, and if you hear any screaming, don’t worry about it. It won’t have anything to do with you.”

Todd’s heart shot to his throat, “Okay,” he managed to say around the lump. Nny disappeared from the doorway. Todd decided his bedroom might be the best place to head too. He tucked his homework into his backpack, checked the lock on the front and back doors, and then his own. He stood, fingers on the little slip of metal, that when turned, was supposed to keep the monsters out of his room.

_“Do it, kid. Don’t be an idiot.”_

Todd’s fingers tightened on the lock before quickly releasing.

 _”Can’t protect you from a pillowcase.”_

“Didn’t do a great job as a bear either.” He paused for a moment. “Sorry.”

_”Not supposed to apologize to your delusions.”_

“Not supposed to have any with my medication.”

There was a hum from the pillowcase. _”Stress does strange things,”_ Shmee offered as Todd pulled off his shirt and jeans. He noticed a constellation of blood splatter on his collar. Both of his cheeks grew warm as he thought of the way Nny had wiped the blood away; careful of his eyes and swiping just a little harder on his lips.

_”You need to do laundry.”_

“Yeah...I know.” Todd grumbled as he threw the shirt into his almost full hamper, and sat on the bed, mostly nude except for his boxers and socks. The room held a slight chill to it, and he shivered a little. Across from him, the punished knives glinted in the light from his side table. 

_”Chatty bunch,”_ Shmee said, making Todd jump.

“Huh?” 

_”Just know if you hear anything chittering in this house, you’re not nuts.”_ The pillow itself seemed to look out across the room. _”The Ulaks sorry, just so you know.”_

“The..what?” 

_”G.”_

Todd looked down at his pillow and then at the wall. He stood slowly, unsure of what he was about to find, but not at all surprised to find that the oddly shaped knife, the U like one from earlier, had a G scratched in at the base of the blade and again on the handle. He looked over some of the others. X was higher up, the machete dull in the lamplight, handle hanging heavily. Next to it, the handle of a boxcutter stuck out, the blade shoved in to the hilt, causing it to be angled slightly. An E was etched into the side of the handle.

The two others were a bowie knife, a J carved into it, and one with a blade that looked like an oily rainbow. Pinks, blues, and greens spread over the metal as Todd turned his head, watching the K on the side seem to flicker.

_”Not a fan of that one.”_

“Huh?”

 _”Doesn’t like to shut up. But they’re a better conversationalist than that fucker.”_ Todd felt a jerk in motion towards the blade above his bed.

“You mean L?” he asked as he stared at the butterfly knife.

_“Yeah, L.”_

Todd shook his head before turning to the other knives. “I need to go back to the doctors,” he mumbled. 

_”Not crazy, kid.”_

“Then explain you.”

Shmee didn’t respond as Todd traced his fingers over the hilts of the knives in the wall. The boxcutter wiggled alarmingly, and for a moment he feared he might accidentally knock it out. It didn’t, however, and he refrained from touching it again. K, he realized, was some sort of switchblade. Looking at the button on the side, he guessed spring loaded, not that he could test the theory without pulling it from the wall. He didn’t touch J or X, their type and size something he was more familiar with, though he did note the rust on X’s blade. He wondered if there was a reason Nny hadn’t removed it. 

When he reached down to touch G, which was at hip height, he found himself actually gripping the hilt. The curved blade pushed out of the wall by just a sliver, parting the paint and sheetrock while the handle jutted from the wall; the base curved perfectly for a grip. The leather was almost warm beneath Todd’s fingers. Absently, he pet at it, then he squeezed. The metal beneath the wrapped leather was a solid core beneath his palm.

 _”What kind of ideas you got bubbling?”_

Todd jumped and jerked back his hand.

“Nothing,” he hissed, cheeks blazing.

_”’Least wrap it before you tap it.”_

His face went bright red, and before Todd realized what he was doing, he grabbed the Shmee pillow and shoved it into his closet.

 _”Thanks, didn’t want to wa—”_ The voice was cut off and muffled as Todd shut the door. He rested his back against the closet; eyes closed tight. 

When he opened them, he found himself looking right at the Ulak. It was at the perfect height, hip height, and wedged so tight into the wall it would take a ridiculous amount of force to dislodge it. Todd’s loins ached gently as he looked the blade over. The hilt wasn’t too wide…

From the depths of the basement, there was a groan of either old metal or tightly warped wood. Todd shook his head.

“Stupid idea,” he muttered as he grabbed his threadbare robe and headed to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and when he grabbed the plastic wrap he told himself it was for the stitches. 

By the time he got back to his room, half hard and flushed, he knew it wasn’t for his stitches.

“This is stupid,” he murmured as he finally slide the lock into place. G hadn’t moved, and why would it? It was a stationary knife, not something alive; a tool that Todd found himself wanting to use. 

_’Put some pretty knives in front of you and you start thinking with your dick.’_ That’s what Pepito had said. Well, maybe he wasn’t so wrong.

Todd went to his knees before the knife, already breathing heavily through his nose, and started to wrap the hilt in the plastic. It didn’t budge at all as he wrapped it, making sure that no leather was uncovered. The last thing he wanted was to ruin it. 

“There.” Todd stepped back and looked down at the wrapped hilt. A bubble of laughter threatened to pop in him because it looked ridiculous; as if it were waiting to be unwrapped and displayed. Todd moved away from it and to his bedside table. In the bottom drawer, his lube, condoms, and plug were hidden under old magazines and junk. He grabbed the small bottle and one of the condoms. He wouldn’t need more than one. 

The rubber went down over the plastic easier than he expected, expanding over the small hilt before resting on the base of the blade’s U. Thankfully, the inner side wasn’t sharp, nor was the first inch or so after the hilt.

Todd’s boxers fell to the floor with little prodding before he pushed himself back on the bed, heels pushed into two slits in the mattress; footholds courtesy of his sharp bedfellows the night before. 

“This is stupid,” he murmured as he poured lube into his palm. He expected something, anything, to agree with him. Nothing else spoke, and that was a good thing; right?

He shifted, his body thudding a little against the wall. The jingle of metal made him look up quickly. He had almost forgotten about the other knife. It hung above him, barely half a foot above his head. L’s hilt had opened, the latch that kept the grip shut having popped loose somehow. Todd touched his neck and shuddered. Beneath him came the sound of something heavy dragging. 

Todd stared up at the blade as his fingers slid between his thighs and pressed a slick digit into himself. A small hiss escaped him as he was breached, his legs shifting so he had better access to his hole as he pressed his heels down into the tears. He worked himself open slowly with one finger, then a second, while he stroked himself with his free hand. 

Todd panted upward, his eyes on the blade above. Every time he shifted against the wall the handle would jangle gently. Below him, he heard a series of gentle thuds and felt one reverberate up his back. A string of muffled words followed, and from the tone, he figured them to be swears of some sort.

“Nny,” he keened gently, his fingers slipping in deeper. At that angle, he couldn’t get quite to where he wanted, but his fingers still sent curls of pleasure through his spine. Another vibration skittered up the wall. Above him L jingled.

“Do you want to play with me?” Todd panted as he lifted his arm and gripped the hilt in his dry hand. It popped free with a jerk. It was a bad idea to remove the knife from the wall, Nny had told him he wanted L to eat splinters a little while longer, but pretty knives and all that. The handle felt cool in his palm, heavy. Todd brought the blade to his neck, gentle as could be, and pulled the dull portion at the base like a whisper over his throat. The metal slid over his pulse points, making his heart hammer. If it had been the sharpened side, it would have slit his throat easily; a papercut thin slice, not deep at all, but there would have been a good amount of blood. Todd shuddered as he twisted the slicked fingers inside himself. 

The metal tasted almost oily against his tongue as he carefully drew the flat bit over the thin skin. Beneath it, he could taste old copper and realized it was from his own blood. His hole twitched around his fingers and precum beaded on the tip of his cock.

“Fuck.” He pulled his fingers from himself and stumbled to where G stood out from the wall. L stayed clasped in his left hand as he rubbed lubricant over the wrapped hilt. His eyes glanced at the point of the Ulak that pressed out of the wall. _’Better be careful,’_ he thought to himself. _’Don’t want to cut myself.’_ He felt the grin on his face but barely registered it as he stood. 

“I hope this is alright, G,” he said softly as he turned and pressed his shoulders into the wall. The other knives surrounded him, not close enough to touch but enough to threaten. He lined himself up with the hilt and rolled his hips down slowly.

The hilt didn’t give in any sense; the leather barely moving around the metal core. Todd let out a gasp as he paused, the hilt barely inside, and did his best to let his body get used to the strange sensation. His hole pulsed around the rigid metal and leather as he closed his eyes and breathed.

“O-oh my god,” he gasped as he lets himself sink down more, his shoulders braced and knees bending. G slipped in further, quicker than he expected. Todd’s thighs bunched as he forced himself to go slowly, everything in him aching for one reason or another as the stiff hilt split him. When G finally grazed over his prostate Todd just about cried. It made every jolt of pain flare deliciously with pleasure as he gently humped against it. 

“There,” he gasped. “Yes.” He rolled his hips a little, making the hilt shift inside him as he gripped L tightly in one hand and pushed the other against the wall. 

“A-ah, f-u-ah.” Syllables escaped him as he began to ride the knife, the burn of being spread by something so stiff no longer a problem. Instead, it fed into his need as he closed his eyes and kept his body moving.

“Shit.” he bit out as he rolled his hips in a circle and rubbed the knife wonderfully against his inner walls. The wrapped leather pushed hard into his prostate on a particularly violent roll of his hips. “Fuck!” 

Below him, the grating sound that had been building in the background dipped to a distant rumble.

“Squee?” The voice was barely there beneath the floorboards, but it made Todd still. “Are you alright up there? The knives behaving?”

Todd felt a laugh try to push between his lips as he steadied himself, G fully inside him. Oh yes, they were behaving beautifully.

“F-fine,” he called back as loud as he could. He gripped L tight in his palm, the metal of its hilt biting into his palm. 

“Are you sure?” He could tell that Nny had to yell quite loudly to be heard. 

“Just stubbed my t-toe,” he called down. He needed to move, god he was so close, he needed to—

“Okay!” The rumble suddenly started back up, and Todd pushed the hand that held L to his mouth. This time, the sound from the basement grew deeper, and the rumble sent a hum up through G’s hilt. 

“Ffffff-” Todd set L’s hilt between his lips and bit down. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to channel the sound of his voice into the steel between his lips. Whatever Nny was doing, it hummed again, and Todd ground down as the vibration seeped into him.  
Todd slide L’s hilt in further, whimpering as the clasped metal slide over his tongue. He pinched the base of the blade, careful of the sharp edge as he swallowed around the hilt and rolled himself down on G. L’s hilt wasn’t thick, but it was long, and Todd found himself gagging some on it as his tongue slide over the holes that decorated the hilt. 

When it suddenly sprang apart with no rhyme or reason, Todd took it in stride after the initial choke. He dragged his tongue between the V of metal and panted hard through his nose. He was close, so damn close, with the taste of metal on his tongue and the slightest drag of a blade on his lower back every time he rolled his hips. 

He clamped his teeth down on the base of L’s blade, the hilt fully in his mouth and throat as he used his now free hand to stroke himself. His other hand kept his balance as he fucked himself on G; pleasure building as the stiff shaft of metal and leather intermittently hit against his prostate.

His teeth ached as he bit down on L. Below him, there was a sudden, harsher rumble that ripped through the house’s walls, making them groan and vibrate as he heard cursing from below. 

Nny’s name was a strangled syllable between the spread hilt of L. Todd seated himself as far down on G as he could go as his body was wracked with a sudden orgasm, the pleasure spiraling up through him. His thighs burned and shook as he pushed his back against the wall and the metal handle spread beneath his tongue, choking him gently. Thick, wet heat hit the floor in wet splats and dribbled down his hand as he stroked himself through orgasm. By the time he finished, it took all of his remaining strength the keep his knees from buckling and letting gravity impale him on the hilt he had just fucked himself on.

Todd pushed at the V of L’s hilt with his tongue, pushing enough of the hilt out that he could remove it safely with his hand.

Heaving deep pants, he stayed squatted over G. Each shift sent his orgasm into its death throes until he was finally able to push himself upward. It took more than he thought it would to lift himself off of G, but once the hilt was free of him, Todd felt nothing but empty and spent.

“Holy shit.” He slid down the wall next to the knife, one hand tight on L while he held his cum covered palm away from himself. Beneath him, the house continued to tremble slightly, though it was nothing compared to what had rocked through him before. He shifted and felt a pang of pain along with slickness between his cheeks.

“Shit.” He looked down at the knife in his palm with its hilt shiny with his spit, then glanced at the hilt in the wall. “Looks like we all need to be cleaned up.”

On shaking legs, Todd stood, unwrapped G, and threw the evidence in his wastebasket. Then, as quietly as possible —not that it mattered with the noises coming from the basement— went to the shower.

“Holy shit,” be breathed as he turned the shower on, cranking up the heat. He shoved his dirtied hand beneath the water, letting it wash away the cum on his palm. 

“Gonna have to scrub the floor,” Todd muttered to himself as he watched the slick, opaque liquid slide from his hand.

Gently, he set L next to the soap.

Todd’s legs still felt like jelly when he stepped in. He grabbed the soap first and began to wash his groin and ass, doing his best to get rid of the mess. A groan left him as he leaned against the wall, his ass sore as he shallowly fingered out the lube.

“That was…” he murmured as he stared ahead, brain going a little blank.

_”Fun?”_

Todd whirled around, eyes wide as he slashed at the side of the tub. But there was no one in the room with him; nothing lurking on the other side of the curtain.

“The hell?” he mumbled as he looked into the bathroom. Todd could have sworn he heard someone. The voice had been so clear, so hopeful. 

The tear in the curtain gave him pause. 

Glancing down at his palm, Todd froze as he realized that he was holding L.

The blade was doused in water that beaded along the blade, making it shimmer in the fogging air of the shower, with bubbles of soap outlining where his fingers gripped it.

“But I thought…When…?” Todd looked at the empty soap dish and then over his lower body, where he had been scrubbing, and found he didn’t have a single cut.

He finished washing quickly, careful of his stitches —both old and new— and headed back to his room. Somehow, he still had a fresh pair of boxers left, and he slid them on before pulling the Shmee pillow out of the closet and climbing into bed. The slightly acrid smell of lube filled his nose as he pulled up his blankets and he knew that he’d have to wash the comforter. Crap. Well, at least he had a working washing machine again.

 _”You forgetting something?”_ Shmee asked as Todd started to get comfortable.

“Huh?” 

He didn’t get a response, though he did realize he was gripping something. 

“Oh, sorry, L.” He sat up and flicked the knife open with surprising ease. It glinted in the dim light from the window. “I don’t think Nny would like it if he found you out of the wall.” Todd reached up and began to slide the knife back into its slot. An intense feeling of distaste twisted in his gut. 

Todd stopped with L barely in the wall.

 _”What’cha doin, kid?”_ Shmee asked, making Todd blink.

Todd chewed on his lip. 

_”Put him back.”_ It was a command that held all the authority of an absent parent.

“I will,” Todd said as he pulled L down and flipped his handle closed, the clasp sliding cleanly into the divot. “In the morning. Nny won’t know.”

 _”You say that, but…”_ Shmee trailed off. Todd ignored him.

“Good night, Shmee,” he muttered as he laid his head down on the pillow.

_”See ya soon.”_

Todd smiled a little as he shifted and felt his backside flare. He looked at the knives glinting in the wall. 

“Night everybody.” He paused. “Thanks, G,” his hand tightened, “L.”

Whatever it was that answered him, his sleepy brain wrapped it in with the groans from the basement that quickly lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. Is 'hilt fucking' a tag? If not, should it be?


	6. Locking in Shapes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Finally got this done. Editing these tends to take a while since I usually write in present tense, but am practicing with past here. Let me know if I missed any tense shifts while editing! Enjoy some actual, ya know, plot!

Pepito slammed the front door hard enough to make the front windows rattle, crack, and then stitch back together. The sound of the glass crackling back into place put his teeth on edge, and with little thought, he turned and kicked at the lower panels on one side of the door, and then the other. It did no real damage, even as the glass blew out, because as soon as his foot was clear of the pane the shards blew back in, knitting together as if the cracks were nothing more than stains to be removed with Windex. 

“Bad day, hijo?” His faller called.

Pepito shot a glare to his left and into the front room. His father, made of nothing but bone, sinew, and flame, sat in the pristine white loveseat his mother had picked out before Pepito was even a thought; a book written in what might have been Hindi in hand. Next to him, a glass of amber tea sat sweating; the ice had long since dissolved.

“What do you think,” Pepito snarled as he went to head up the central staircase. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Señor Diablo asked as he lifted the glass to his thin lips and took a sip. 

“Why, don’t you already know?” Yet, despite the venom in his voice, Pepito shuffled into the room, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes glaring at the book in his father’s hands.

“I am not omniscient, Pepito,” he replied, moving the book in a gentle circle. Pepito gave up trying to glare a hole into it.

“And even if I were, what kind of father would I be if I spied on my son?” 

Pepito threw himself onto the couch, the cushions enveloping him comfortably. He toed his shoes off without a thought before swinging his legs up and sat scrunched in almost a fetal position.

“But really,” Señor Diablo set a metal strip between the pages of his book and closed it, “What’s bothering you?”

“An insufferable fuckwit named Johnny,” Pepito replied, spitting the name out with a small puff of flame. 

“Johnny?” Señor Diablo sat forward, boney fingers arching against one another. 

“Yes, Johnny, or ‘Nny’ as he likes to be called. Who the fuck names themselves after a body part? It’s so fucking stu—”

“Wait,” his father cut in. “Nny wouldn’t happen to be a thin man, somewhere in his late thirties now, I would think, and toting some random assortment of weapons would he?”

“Holy shit, you really did meet him,” Pepito murmured before he spun to fully face his father. “I thought he was lying! He said something about you with Pom-poms.”

Señor Diablo gave a small shrug. “It was a brief encounter, and it was the quickest way of making him uncomfortable.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“Because I didn’t see a need to. I thought he had left,” Señor Diablo replied. 

“Yeah, well he’s back,” he said between gritted teeth. “Y es vivé con Todd.”

His father's eyes narrowed to sharp pricks of radiance.

“He moved back into that house?”

Pepito looked his father over. His posture was stiffer, and the flames of his eyes had begun to smolder.

“What’s wrong?” Pepito sat forward, nails digging into the couch. He could feel the white cloth trying to stitch around them. His father stared at him for a few moments longer before heaving a sigh.

“I was hoping we could wait on this lesson.”

“What lesson?” Pepito asked as his father got up.

“Come, let’s go to my office.”

Pepito’s heart made a mad dash for his throat, though he swallowed it back into place. The office? His father hated his office, which meant…

“Papá, what’s going on?”

“This may take a while, and I don’t want to be interrupted by dinner,” Señor Diablo replied as he left the room.

“How fucking long is this lesson?”

He got no response as his father headed for the basement stairs, his movements brisk; an odd thing to witness seeing as his father always seemed to float. Pepito had to almost jog to keep up with him and cursed that he got his mother’s genes when it came to height.

“¿Todd va a está estando bien?” Pepito asked as they reached the basement stairs. The door swung open, though instead of stairs leading down into one of the many pits, it opened into a rather large, bland office.

“This isn’t about Todd, son.” He stepped inside and Pepito followed. Pictures of Pepito and his mother lined the walls, a few even held Todd, and they stared at him with frozen smiles. Pepito paid them no mind, opting to stare at his father's back as he walked around a large, heavy desk covered in stacks of paperwork. Something cold was settling in his stomach. It made the flames in his belly grow hotter to try and kill it.

“What is going on Pa—”

“What have I told you about waste locks?”

Pepito paused, his flames of rage licking at the base of his esophagus and threatening to replicate the human state of heartburn.

“The hell is a waste lock?”

“I thought so,” Señor Diablo sighed. “I was hoping to wait on this.”

“Why?”

“Because I was sure that Todd was one, and I didn’t want to alarm you.”

Pepito blinked rapidly for a moment. “Why the fuck would Todd be a _waste_ lock? The hell is that even?”

“It’s what Johnny was, and possibly still is,” Señor Diablo pushed at a pile of papers, re-arranging them in no seemingly specific order.

“Okay, well what _is_ that.”

“Essentially, they are the unhappy guardians of all of the worlds negative energy. They are literally a lock, keeping it at bay, absorbing and filtering it, and when they die, it will go with them.”

“And you made Todd into one!?” Flames blazed over Pepito’s horns as he tasted smoke curling on his tongue. 

“ _I_ have nothing to do with them,” his father replied coolly. “I have no control over who or what becomes a lock. They simply exist; chosen by something that drooling God put into place before creating humans and checking out of existence. And I said that I _thought_ he was one. I can not be sure with non-sinners, Pepito. Their souls are out of my domain, but the souls of Locks are outside both mine and heavens.”

“What?” The flames faded and that odd, cold sensation was back.

“Waste locks are a necessity that puts them outside of both jurisdictions. An exception to all rules. When they die, they are supposed to be freed, usually sometime early on in life; if they are lucky. When they do then the world reboots, the negativity is removed, and we move on. I thought Johnny had done just that, but if he’s returned to the locking point, then…” he trailed off, flame-filled eyes staring just past Pepito’s head.

“Then what?” 

“Well, then the lock has returned. Odd. I thought the world might let the poor man live and die in peace.”

Pepito gave a snort. “Yeah, about that that bit, apparently _living_ doesn’t work right for him.” 

Again his father’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean it doesn’t work right?”

“I don’t know, but according to Todd he hasn’t aged or some shit like that, he smells all _wrong_ Papá, and he doesn’t even bleed!” Flames licked along his horns as he thought about how nonchalantly Johnny had taken Pepito’s claws. “The fucker stabbed me in the stomach with one of his damn knives and I couldn’t even put a scratch on him, the espantapájaros de mierda. I shoved my fingers into his chest and it was like shoving them into tepid putty!”

“He didn’t bleed at all?”

Pepito did not like how quiet the words were.

“Papá, what’s going on?”

“I’m...not sure.” He pushed a pen across his desk, left it for a moment, and then moved it somewhere else. 

Pepito breathed heavily through his nose as he watched his father’s boney finger.

“What do you mean you’re not sure, padre?”

“Exactly that, hijo,” Señor Diablo replied, his eyes finally locking on his sons. “I’m not sure.”

Pepito felt an unnatural chill run over his skin and hated every prickle.

“What _do_ you know?”

His father took a deep breath through his nose. 

Señor Diablo was right. It was a long lesson.

\-----------------------------------------

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Todd looked up at Shmee in confusion and then back down at his cards. “Um...n-no. I have no threes, go fish.”

“I’m not talking about the cards, kid,” the large bear replied as he laid down his hand. Todd did his best to not peak as the cards flashed at him. Shmee had eights. The knowledge made guilt creep up Todd’s neck. He wouldn’t ask for eights.

“What are you talking about then?” Todd asked as he looked over his shoulder, craning his neck to see what he could see. The bed was in the way, though, and he ended up having to push himself onto his short legs to see over the top. His heart jumped into his throat as he saw someone shift in the dark of his closet.

“Shmee,” he squeaked. 

“Squee?” something else said before the bear could reply. The voice was...familiar? Maybe? He couldn’t be sure, but when he heard it, some of the tension ran out of his body. 

“W-who’s there.”

The figure came forward, and while they were taller than him, they no longer seemed to go on forever. 

“L.” 

“Elle?”

The figure shook its head. “No, L.”

“Like the letter?”

“Just like the letter,” it replied. There was a slice of a silver smile. It made Todd relax.

“What are you doing here, L?”

“I’m not sure,” L replied as they stood on the other side of the bed. Even though they were closer, they still seemed to be made up of nothing but shadows. 

Todd cocked his head to the side, “What do you look like?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it has a shape, kid,” Shmee replied as he stood next to him. 

“A...shape?” It seemed to mimic his head cocking, the shadows shifting.

“Yeah, a shape! Like me! I have a shape!” Todd stretched out his arms and did a turn around in a circle.

“I...noticed. It’s not the same shape.” L sounded disappointed.

“Never is in here,” Shmee grumbled. 

“Huh?” Todd looked up at his bear.

“Nothing.” Shmee set a paw on his shoulder, his claws reassuring points against Todd’s shoulder. 

“Well...how do you want me to look?” L asked.

“I...me?” He rung his hands together. “Y-you want me to choose?”

“Yeah. Make it something you’d like.” 

Squee blinked and found the form in front of him more defined; lithe, moderately tall —a little taller than Shmee at least— and what looked like a mop of messy hair. The more he stared, the more definition it got, until the sides were buzzed and the hair on top was longer than his own.

“Huh.” L reached up with a dark hand and tousled it a little, sending the strands falling wildly over its face before pettings its fingers along the short, buzzed sides. “I like it.” Whites appeared around dark, almost black irises that crinkled in a smile above a slash of white teeth. 

“A-are you a boy or a girl?” Todd asked gently as he blushed a little.

“Rude,” Shmee muttered.

“S-sorry.” Todd dropped his eyes and stared at his comforter.

“Do I have to pick one?”

“I…” Todd paused. “No, you don’t.”

“Well, who would you prefer to play with?”

Todd’s cheeks went warm, though he didn’t quite know why. “Play with?”

“You gotta ask?” Shmee huffed. For some reason that seemed to cinch it, and when Todd blinked he found what looked like a young man on the other side of the bed. He was wearing...something dark. It made his skin look extra pale, like someone else Todd knew. 

L looked down at himself and smiled. “Do you like this?”

Todd swallowed and nodded. 

“Then I do too.” L gave him another smile with straight white teeth. He smoothed his hands over his chest, and Todd watched as a dark shirt developed with thin white lines that traced vertically down, silver buttons popping up down the center, and sleeves thickened into rolled cuffs around the elbows. “Cool,” L added as he pulled one down before sloppily rolling it back up.

“Yeah, great, you have a form. Am I dealing him in?” Shmee directed the last of the question to Todd as he went to sit back down. 

“O-oh, yeah! This’ll be a lot more fun with three people. We can—”

The door to his room shuddered, and Todd froze.

“What’s that?” L asked as they all stared at the door.

“Nothing you want to fuck with,” Shmee grunted. The door rattled again, and Todd quickly scuttled back into Shmee’s waiting arms. The bear pulled him tight to his chest, resting his chin on top of Todd’s head.

“Hooooney. Mommy needs you.”

Todd perked up. “Mom?”

“Leave her, little man,” Shmee replied as he held Todd tight. “You don’t want to give her anything she wants.”

“But she’s my Mom,” Todd said as he untangled himself from Shmee’s paws.

“Mom?” L asked, looking at the door.

“Yeah, she gave birth to me! I love her, and she loves me.” Todd beamed at L as he stepped away from Shmee. The bear heaved a tired sigh behind him. 

“Todd, open the door. I neeeeeeeeeeeeed you,” his mother called; voice singsong and beautiful. 

“Come on, Todd, leave her. We have cards to play,” came Shmee’s gruff tone.

Todd gave Shmee a little smile as he headed towards the door, but ignored his words.

“Can I meet your Mom?” L asked, following him. On this side of the bed, Todd could tell he was wearing pretty, oily looking black shoes with...what had his father called them? Oh, right, slacks! He was wearing slacks! Todd liked them.

“Sure!” Todd reached above his head for the knob. “She’s a very pretty lady, though she’s tired a lot.” The knob turned under his fingers.

“Todd, I need you,” she was saying again.

“What do you need, Mommy?” he asked as he pulled open the door.

Todd looked up as his mother’s dazed, dreamy face as she stared serenely down at him.

“Oh it’s such a small thing, sweetie,” she said as she lifted her hands. Todd’s eyes went wide as he saw the two metal rods. A spark darted between them as she moved them towards Todd. “I just need you to die.”

“Move ki—” Shmee didn’t get the rest of the sentence out before Todd was shoved to the side. He fell back, staring as L raised his arm; a short, thin blade held in his hand.

“Who the fuck are you?” his mother asked dreamily before the knife flashed over her throat. Static sizzled over the slash, smoke poured from her mouth, and the rods jerked towards L who dodged them fluidly.

“M-mommy!?” Todd squeaked as he scuttled back a little more, escaping a small cascade of sparks.

“I don’t think I like Mommies,” L snarled as he drew the knife from her right shoulder down to her left hip. Todd watched her nightdress and skin part, releasing coils of oily wire that slid from her insides and onto the floor.

“Tooooooooodd,” she groaned before L shoved the knife into the wires and began to slice. Some let out oil, other shocks of electricity, but L didn’t seem to mind. He just cut, and cut, and cut until Mommy was nothing but ribbons on the floor. 

When he turned around, Todd felt his face grow warm. L was splattered with smears of rusty red, his eyes were dark and wild, and his smile wide. 

“I like that shape,” L said as he reached for Todd. Todd took his hand, felt it was smaller than his own, but it was strong. It pulled him up easily; up and up and up until Todd was looking down. For a moment, he thought he could almost be looking at Pepito, but that wasn’t right. There were similarities, sure, but this was L. L was, clearly, not Pepito.

“Y-you do?”

L nodded before reaching up, the knife he had held gone, and cupped either side of Todd’s face. Todd watched a flash of silver dart between his lips. 

“What do you want, L?” Todd asked quietly. 

“I want to play with you,” he said before gently pulling Todd down. 

Todd breathed out hard as L pushed his face to his throat and he felt something cool and sharp slide over, but not through, his skin.

“L?”

The sharpness left his neck. L pulled back and smiled. 

“Do you want to play with me again, Squee?” 

Todd nodded mindlessly and leaned in. He watched the confusion on L’s face before he pushed their mouths together. Todd felt him tense as he wrapped his arms around him, which he didn't like much. Gently, he began to push a pattern of circles into L’s back, and almost immediately, L relaxed. He kissed L a little harder.

Something sharp pressed against his lip, almost insistently. He smiled, went to open his mouth, and—

“Squee, can I come in?” 

Squee jerked upright and something sliced against his lower lip. 

“Fuck,” he snarled as he pushed the back of his fist to his mouth and blinked through slight tears.

“What? What’s wrong?” The door opened as Todd swore softly and looked around. There was light seeping through his windows as the sun rose; most of it blocked by the decrepit house across the street.

“L, you piece of shit, what are you doing!?” 

“L?” Todd pulled back his fist and, sure enough, the knife was clenched in his bloodied hand.

“I am going to throw you in the closest river you rusted piece of scrap!” Nny snarled as he reached for the knife.

"Wait!” Todd pulled the knife back, eyes wild as he scooted back on the bed until his back hit the wall.

“What do you mean ‘wait’? They bit you! And on the mouth!” Nny paused, eyes narrowing. “Now why the hell would he want you there, L, that's absurd.”

“I-it’s not his fault! You startled me while I was looking at him and I—”

“He? Him?” Nny looked between Todd and the blade in his hand. “What the hell is going on? When did you start using those pronouns?” Nny raised a brow. “Squee said...what? You’re making no sense. He can’t be small, he’s grown.” Nny sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Just, shut up. I’m not listening to any of this ‘you startled me’ crap.”

“B-but you did,” Todd stammered.

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to knock. It startled me, and I cut myself on accident.”

“Wait..." Nny raised an eyebrow. "You cut yourself?” 

Todd nodded quickly. “Yeah. It wasn’t L’s fault.”

“So you took him out of the wall?” 

A blush crept up his neck and warmed the tips of his ears. “Y-yeah. I, uh...I wanted to look at him.”

Nny gave him an incredulous look before sighing. “Well, you’ve looked. Now please hand them o— alright fine! Hand _him_ , over so I can get _him_ cleaned up,” Nny snapped. “Not to mention you’re getting red all over you.”

“O-oh, yeah.” Todd gave a sheepish smile that had the split in his lip dribbling a bit more blood. Nny pulled out a handkerchief of some kind before holding out his hand. After a moment of hesitation, Todd placed the bloodied L into Nny’s palm. 

“I swear, if he needs more stitches you’re going right back into the wall,” Nny grumbled at L.

“I’m fine, really,” Todd said as he got up. “Really.” Yes, because saying it twice would make it true.

Nny looked at his mouth before his eyes glanced down and then quickly back up. 

“I guess so.” He quickly turned and headed out of the room. 

Todd stood, lip dripping and confusion scrambling his brain. 

“Nny?” he called as he took a step and felt his cock bob in his shorts. Immediately his face grew hot. Todd looked down to find his morning wood hard and happy to see him, the cotton of the tented boxers sporting a few drops of red.

"Fuck."

Behind him, he heard Shmee snicker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it was like a dollop of plot. Still, there is plot.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you wondering, writing this has helped a shit ton with my block for other stories, so expect more updates from both this, commissions, and (of course) those Homestuck ones you've been waiting on. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. We'll be seeing Nny soon!


End file.
